


Of Owning a Café and Other Heroic Deeds…

by Beware_The_Tristero



Category: Boku no Hero Academia Vigilantes, 僕のヒーローアカデミア | Boku no Hero Academia | My Hero Academia
Genre: Aizawa Shouta will solve ALL the PROBLEMS, Aizawa Shouta | Eraserhead Adopts Shinsou Hitoshi, Aizawa Shouta | Eraserhead is Bad at Feelings, Aizawa Shouta | Eraserhead is So Done, Aizawa Shouta | Eraserhead is a Good Teacher, Aizawa Shouta | Eraserhead-centric, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Angst and Feels, Angst and Humor, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, BAMF Aizawa Shouta | Eraserhead, Cafe Owner Aizawa, Caring Aizawa Shouta | Eraserhead, Cat Cafés, Cat Ears, Comfort Food, Conflict Resolution, Dadzawa, Familial Love, Feel-good, Feels, Fluff and Angst, Food as a Metaphor for Love, Found Family, Healing, Implied Sexual Content, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Implied/Referenced Domestic Violence, M/M, Mentor Aizawa Shouta | Eraserhead, More tags to be added, No Beta: Beware Typos, Not All Heroes Wear Capes!, Parental Aizawa Shouta | Eraserhead, Pining, Protective Aizawa Shouta | Eraserhead, References to Upsetting Scenes, Rescue Missions, Self-Indulgent, Slice of Life, Slow Burn, Tears, Warm and Fuzzy Feelings, attempted humour, child characters, community building, references to child neglect, world building
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-05
Updated: 2021-03-17
Packaged: 2021-03-17 17:20:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 55
Words: 182,190
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29229105
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Beware_The_Tristero/pseuds/Beware_The_Tristero
Summary: Aizawa Shouta knew, fundamentally, that his quirk could be useful when it came to helping others; however, after his parents died and a few, unsuccessful jaunts around the foster-care system later, he comes to realise that the world ofheroesisn’t for him.Because heroes only showed up some of the time; then, if you were lucky, they’d rush onto the scene, seek their glory in defeatingvillainsand then vanish behind a screen of adoring-fans, TV cameras and fame… leaving the ordinary people behind to sift through the fragments of their broken lives themselves.No one had saved him from the ruthless reality of being an orphan too old and too damaged to be adopted andno onegave a damn about the shady area ensconcing thecare-centrehe wasraisedin either, and so,hedecides to give a damn.What follows are the tales of Café Owner Aizawa who hasn’t adopted several kids, intimidated the local gangs, scared off the pimps and caused multiple villains and heroes to catch feels for him, no sir; he just serves drinks, provides decent food and helps struggling students with their homework.It’d be irrational to think otherwise…
Relationships: Aizawa Shouta & Kayama Nemuri & Shirakumo Oboro & Yamada Hizashi, Aizawa Shouta | Eraserhead & Asui Tsuyu, Aizawa Shouta | Eraserhead & Bakugou Katsuki, Aizawa Shouta | Eraserhead & Dabi, Aizawa Shouta | Eraserhead & Kaminari Denki, Aizawa Shouta | Eraserhead & Kirishima Eijirou, Aizawa Shouta | Eraserhead & League of Villains, Aizawa Shouta | Eraserhead & Midoriya Izuku, Aizawa Shouta | Eraserhead & Shigaraki Tomura | Shimura Tenko, Aizawa Shouta | Eraserhead & Shinsou Hitoshi, Aizawa Shouta | Eraserhead & Yagi Toshinori | All Might, Dabi & Shigaraki Tomura | Shimura Tenko, Dabi/Shigaraki Tomura | Shimura Tenko
Comments: 2208
Kudos: 1241
Collections: A list of To Reads - Ampunkin, The Best of Aizawa, hereBeGems





	1. A Beginning...

**Author's Note:**

> This is a completely self-indulgent story that has eaten me up for the past week; there are no romantic pairings for Aizawa yet (would you like one? Let me know; I've tagged this as M/M because that's what I tend to write); no...
> 
> This is just a story about Aizawa saving people in ways _other_ than hero-work! It's also a tale of friendships (unlikely and canonical), making a positive difference in the world and understanding.
> 
> There's also food, angst, drama and... sorry, no romantic relationships for the children; maybe, if this fic keeps going, there could be when they're older...
> 
> Let me know what you'd like/what you think~!
> 
> Also, this isn't finished, not by a long shot; I just had to post it before I lost even more of my sanity~!
> 
> **The warnings for this chapter are: ANGST, references to non-sexual child abuse/neglect (I NEVER WRITE UNDERAGE - PLEASE DON'T ASK ME!), over-coming hardships, references to parental-death, loneliness, bullying and hope~!**

At the age of eight, a _very nice_ lady had come to his elementary school, pulled him from his classroom and _very calmly_ told him that his parents were dead; the office block they’d worked in had collapsed thanks to a bust up between Pro Heroes and a villain gang who’d robbed a bank two streets away…

At the age of nine, he’d been placed with three different families; none had worked out…

At the age of ten, a _very nice_ man from a Government program had visited him at his care-centre; the man had been passed the assessment of his quirk from the Principal of his school and wanted to sponsor him into some kind of _scheme_ that would _make_ him into a hero.

He’d declined.

The man left.

Life went on.

At the age of thirteen, when a group of older boys had learned about his circumstances, they’d decided that he would make an ideal _sparring partner_ (read punching-bag) and the hell that was his life became worse.

He already knew that no one was coming to save him.

He already understood that no one would care at all.

So, what could he do when his care-centre’s manager was usually too busy sleeping off the better part of a sake set most evenings and the other kids forced to suffer the same living conditions were younger than him and predominantly quirkless?

Well, what else could he do but fight back?

Sure, it took a while and, with no money of his own (using the “free-school-meal” vouchers he had the embarrassment of showing in the school canteen as currency wasn’t going to cut it), Shouta found himself squirreled away in the library more often than not.

The books he found on self-defence were insightful.

The video tutorials on the internet were proficient.

Having no one really care where he was or what time he came _home_ (so long as it was before the evening curfew when Itsu-san was _forced_ to do a head-count; there were only five of them at the centre and he was doing most of the leg work in terms of washing clothes, making meals and helping the others to study) was similarly beneficial.

Therefore, every morning (as much as he loved to sleep; nothing really hurt when you were out cold), he got up at 05:30 and went for a run. Then, at 06:30, he got the other boys up, supervised them washing and helped the four-year-old (a boy with distorted features but a huge heart and winning smile; most adults were too shallow to see that) into his school uniform and fed them breakfast. By 07:30, they were out of the care-centre’s doors (the manager still snoring in her room), their hair brushed, teeth-cleaned and homework completed to meet his exacting standards and on their way to their schools.

When they’d moaned, groaned and whined at him about being so well dressed and careful in their learning, he’d always told them that their only ticket to a better life was a good education.

It was something that he believed and something he aimed to get for himself.

Then, after school (sometimes limping), he’d collect them, tell them not to worry and they’d go _home_ ; once they were fed, settled with the TV or a good book (he took them to the local library every weekend and the park, too), he’d practise his _katas_ , build his muscles, research fighting styles that would suit him and work on first-aid techniques.

The other kids were always scraping their knees, getting into scuffles (that’s what a traumatic childhood, cruel classmates and no real parental figures would do to you, he guessed) and coming to him in tears so it was only _rational_ for him to know how to help.

God knew that Itsu-san wouldn’t bother.

Then, after testing out his strength on some dummies in the school gym (away from prying eyes; the teachers didn’t mind him using the equipment at lunch time: he was quiet, hard-working and never caused a fuss, so why would they?) for a few weeks, he felt ready.

Which meant, after two months’ worth of _sparring_ with the older boys (he’d learned how to hide the bruises and they hadn’t succeeded in making his cry; they weren’t worth it), just before the winter holidays, he unleashed _every_ bit of his wrath upon them when they’d dragged him behind the utility-shed after the final bell of term rang.

The look on their faces (despite his bloody nose) had been _priceless_.

The feeling he had as he stood over them, his red irises gleaming, his long hair waving eerily in the frigid air, had made him wonder if he’d been wrong to turn down the offer to join a hero course.

However, as he told them under no uncertain terms that, should they ever approach him or the kids he looked after again they’d be _dearly_ sorry, he realised that that _wasn’t_ the kind of attitude a _hero_ should have.

He _maybe_ shouldn’t have stamped on the three teeth he’d punched out of the oldest teen’s terrified face, either.

That’s when students had started to whisper about him being a villain.

Tch, if he was a villain for protecting himself and stopping a bunch of bullies from harassing him them yes, he’d been _right_ about the whole _hero_ thing.

He hadn’t chosen to fight those bastards…

He hadn’t _asked_ to be targeted…

He’d only refused to be a victim, that’s all…

He’d told the Principle as much; the old, bald, ferret featured man had tutted at him, asked him why he hadn’t approached the faculty, asked him _why_ he didn’t care that he’d broken Aki’s fingers or snapped Roku’s ankle.

He’d simply replied that none of the three older boys had cared about the pain and suffering they’d inflicted on him and had simply been following his _senpais’_ example.

That, for the most part, had been the end of it because he was A+ student who was the head of the Home Economics Club (because cooking and baking was logical; followed recipes led to predictable results and he had four little mouths to feed) and the Gymnastics Club (he’d found out he was ridiculously flexible and figured such a move-set would be useful). His teachers (and some of his classmates who he never let in close, he didn’t need the distractions and people you cared about ultimately left, so why bother becoming attached in the first place?) had vouched for him and life went on.

He continued to train…

He started to work with Moto-sensei (who was a martial arts nut and had called him a prodigy) and got an after-school job at the fierce teacher’s dojo (because making and saving money was vital; he’d have a _home_ at the care-centre until he was eighteen _but_ that was only five years away)…

Then, at sixteen, he’d started to think more seriously about the future; he’d secured a full scholarship to one of the better high-schools in Tokyo (one where he could board at the University campus just across the road from it) and, as (admittedly) heart breaking as it was, the other boys at the centre had told him to go.

He’d contacted Social Services and the Police about Itsu-san by then.

He’d always been able to meet her apathy, lack of engagement and drunken ranting (he’d protected the others from it as much as he could) and knew, because no one from the Government ever visited to check up on them (their quirks weren’t useful enough to be noticed), that no one would have taken him seriously before then.

For Itsu, regardless of her drinking, was clever; she was an older, widowed woman who’d tried her best to raise five, terrible boys with so little funding and support: the brat was clearly lying to make her life more miserable…

Those were all arguments she’d thrown at him at one time or another…

That, and weren’t the children always clean, well behaved, well fed and doing well in school?

That was _thanks to her_ , of course; tch, he’d learned then that the kindnesses he’d tried to give could be used against him. It wouldn’t stop him from being kind, though…

It just helped to keep him wary of people who were _supposed_ to protect others, that’s all…

That was why, when he had such good grades and such glowing reports from his teachers (who were respected in society and had proven that they’d speak well of him), he’d felt empowered enough to make sure that the other orphans would be looked after when he left them.

 _“Aizawa-kun, these living conditions are deplorable… why didn’t you come forward sooner?”_ the person responsible for investigating his claims had asked; _“I was sworn to silence, sir… I was worried what would happen to them if I acted before now_ ”.

The scandal had been kept out of the local news, thank goodness, the younger children were rehoused (they’d been kept together, the couple running their new centre seemed nice and they wrote to each other every week) and he’d been free to learn.

But… for what purpose?

He knew that being a hero wouldn’t do the real-good he was so desperate to see and being a villain (regardless of the dark whispers that’d haunted him some nights of how _easy_ it would be to _just_ not give a damn) was not an option.

For, regardless of how the media portrayed them, skewed their stories and demonised people (he’d felt that some of the people arrested and sentenced to Tartarus _may_ have been pushed to such actions and crimes just to survive) he knew, fundamentally, that being a villain was wrong.

Villains had helped to kill his parents…

 _But_ they also started off, in some cases, as bullies…

As people who were unloved, unwanted and uneducated…

As people who had no where to go, nothing better to do with their lives…

Maybe…

Maybe _he_ could do something about that?

Not nationally, of course, that was an illogical goal, however…

He _had_ to do _something_ , but what?

At first, as he’d settled into his new high school and taken the career-aptitude test, he’d considered becoming a teacher; that would enable him to reach young minds and help to shape them for the better but, that only tackled _some_ of the problems he saw.

Then, during a lunch time where he’d _had_ to sit amongst his peers, the food he’d made that morning in the school’s kitchen-styled classroom (his Food Tech teacher had been _thrilled_ that someone was _finally_ taking an interest because ‘ _young people_ ’ didn’t seem to care about cooking these days), inspiration had struck…

Inspiration in the form of _nosy_ students clocking the cake-boxes he’d stashed in a separate bag (it was Friday and he’d intended to take the extra food he’d made to the other orphans when he visited them that evening) and had asked (demanded, their eyes sparkling with interest) to try some.

It would have been irrational to refuse them since, for better or worse, he’d be stuck with them for the next two years…

_“Wow~ Aizawa-kun~ these cakes are delicious~!”_

_“Did _you_ bake this bread? It’s amazing~!”_

_“Aww~! Bento-cat art~! What are you, an Instagram influencer or something?”_

_“Are you going to be a chef when you’re older? Maa~ That’s **so** cool~!”_

A chef was one thing _but_ , again, making food that people enjoyed wouldn’t exactly be a huge help to society, would it?

_“Tch, are you guys kidding? Aizawa-kun’s got a real head for numbers and he’s got the best grades in Business Studies so he’s _clearly_ going to own his own bakery or something, right?”_

_“Oh~! I’d _totally_ buy what you bake Aizawa-kun~! Ahh~! You’ll have a café section in there, too, won’t you~?!”_

And, just like that, everything he wanted to do came together at once.

He’d saved up a modest sum of yen (and he could get another job, maybe in a café to learn the trade, couldn’t he?) and, if he made a sound, rational business plan he could get a loan…

With that loan, he could buy a café, no _the_ old, boarded up café he and his fellow orphans used to pass to and from school every day; that part of Musutafu was _exactly_ the kind of place he wanted to help, _exactly_ the kind of place where heroes never trod and villains in the making had no options…

If he could go there and create a business that would give kids and adults alike a safe place to go, a place where they could eat, talk and be educated, then…

Then maybe he could make a real, actual difference.

It was worth a shot, wasn’t it?

~*~

At the age of twenty-one, Aizawa Shouta stood before the boarded-up café beside the former owner’s bewildered daughter; she was an older woman with a good heart: she’d tried her best to persuade him not to buy it and warned that the local hooligans had driven her father into an early retirement and near poverty.

He tried to waylay her fears and, after they’d sat down and talked (without the Estate Agents; vultures every one of them) she’d watched, her magenta eyes widening in disbelief, as he laid out his plans before her.

She’d thought he was crazy, of course; however, when they were done talking (they’d originally met at the property a week prior; she’d wanted to meet the person _crazy_ enough to actually buy the place that’d ruined her family’s peace and shown him around with self-deprecating tones that’d made the Agent sweat bullets) she’d blinked.

Even after all of her warnings, even when she’d shushed the Agent so desperately trying to keep her mouth-shut (because a sale was a sale and commission was there to be had) that day, she’d not been able to understand his goal.

 _No_ …

Not until that quiet hour they’d spent in a café not unlike what he envisioned…

Not until he told her his story and pointed out the closed down care-centre on a map…

Not until he’d smiled at her and told her he’d be willing to go above asking price (by a rational margin, mind you) that she’d relented.

She’d gone so far as to half the already reasonable price; “ _you’ll need every yen in your pocket to make this work, you wonderful lunatic_ ” she’d said.

Heh, he’d been called worse things.

“My father” she breathed next to him as they stood there now, the warm May sunshine glimmering against the cracked windows peeking out between graffitied boards; “he… he would have been really proud to know that you’re here, trying to do this” she murmured gently, her hands clasped together over her conservatively covered chest. “He used to love this part of Musutafu, you know? He grew up here but… as urbanisations grew bigger and quirks became more common, well, people started moving away, property prices went down and, well” she gestured at the gloomy high-rises, closed stores and greyness all around them.

“I… just _promise_ me that you won’t let them harm or dishearten you” she said whilst turning to him, her rounded figure radiating an almost motherly energy; “that you’ll see sense and try your luck elsewhere if…”

“Yoshida-san” he smiled, the breeze playing with his bun; “you have my word that I’ll do everything I can to breathe life back into your father’s café” he stated: “and who knows, maybe our dreams aren’t as irrational as you think” he chuckled. “Only time will tell, won’t it?” he shrugged; “so… would you like to come inside? The electricity should be on by now…”

“Ahh… no, no thank you” the woman chuckled nervously, her eyes sneaking back to her parked car. The small, boxy four-wheeler was sat only ten feet away from them on the quiet, pot-hole spattered road; “I… I really ought to be on my way” she furthered as he walked her towards it across the wider than average sidewalk.

This was one of the things that he’d liked most about this place as the wide slab of concrete that separated it from the main street actually belonged to the property and he had permission to put tables, chairs and raised-vegetable beds on it. Heh, he’d need to buy an awning that’d pull from the café’s (soon to be glass-fronted) main wall to shade it, though… most people didn’t like sitting out in the sun and it’d offer rain-protection in the winter-months, too.

“T-thank you for walking me, Aizawa-kun.”

Blinking out of his thoughts when they reached the vehicle, the raven-haired man regarded the woman, her worried eyes focused elsewhere; heh, there was a group of teenagers loitering around a lamppost a few feet away. She probably thought they wanted to steal her vehicle.

And for all he knew, she was right.

“Thank you for your time and your generosity” he said when she quickly looked back at him; “you’re always welcome here, please don’t forget that.”

“You’re a dear boy” she complimented as they bowed at each other; “ _please_ take care of yourself” she finished before, her goat’s tail flailing nervously behind her, she quickly unlocked the car, got inside and relocked it again.

Waving her off, Shouta then looked to the keys in his hand and walked back towards the (still serviceable and reinforced; it’d only need sanding and a lick of pain) café’s door, undid the two deadbolts and pushed it open; the little old bell that chimed was cute and (to his surprise) cat-shaped. 

He’d be sure to clean it and reinstate it after a good polish.

Then, he turned his attention back to the dust-encrusted area which was a good 500 square feet of potential with a relatively large kitchen partitioned off behind a wall that had a wide, service window; not that he’d be using it. No, he’d make his wares in the morning then display some in the glass-fronted display case and keep others in the fridges beneath the service-bar.

There were a number of old tables and chairs (that he could easily up-cycle since they were wooden), a couple of booths lined the two long, mostly window-fronted _walls_ and speakers (that, by some miracle, still worked) were nestled in the four corners of the ceiling.

The flooring was a tired, grotty linoleum (that’d have to go) and tacky _every_ actual wall needed a good coat of paint.

However, there was no damp and no thieves or vandals had gotten into the café itself or the two bedroomed apartment (it was small _but_ serviceable even if there wasn’t an _actual_ shower in the bathroom; that was luxury he couldn’t do without… which meant a change to his budgeting figures; _wonderful_ ), so that was a plus.

Heh…

He certainly had his work cut out for him but, as he looked around in the near darkness (a flip of a nearby switch _pinging_ on cheap, mostly working fluorescent tubes which clinked annoyingly (he’d have to change those) soon added much needed light), he couldn’t help his smile.

This was the first step, he reminded himself.

He’d allotted his saved and loaned money wisely and now, thanks to Yoshida-san’s kindness, he had a little more wriggle room to play with.

There were certain things, of course, that he’d need to pay for; a professional electrician would have to ensure he met the Council’s health and safety expectations, a plumber for the gas-cookers, ovens and boiler (a central heating system was a must) and glass-fitters (with premium, quirk-protected windows) were necessary, too.

However, most other things he could do himself.

He had a selection of power tools (and knew how to use them; he’d attended a few online courses and those run by smaller, community colleges), paint and, thanks to his old high school teacher and his previous café jobs, he had lots of useful connections when it came to equipment and supplies.

That, and he’d already applied for his licenses (the jargon of the Council’s wording had been easy given his business qualifications), had several qualifications in food-standards, preparation and practises and, thanks to his strict adherence to logical purchasing, he’d been able to kit out the apartment above the café to his liking, too.

All within budget, all practically approached, all necessary…

‘ _Okay_ ’ he thought to himself; ‘ _the refuse company are coming by at 13:00 which means I have six hours to get everything I don’t want piled outside for them to take_ ’ he mentally added with a nod, his gloved hands (they were thick, sturdy and glass-resistant; a smart purchase if an expensive one) rolling up his sleeves.

‘ _Let’s get to work…_ ’


	2. Noraneko Cafe...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Warnings include: swearing, angst, distrust, concern, feels and drama.**
> 
> Noraneko = Stray Cat.
> 
> =^_^=

A week later saw him keeping to his tight and efficient (“ _crazy_!” one of his former colleagues had laughed as they worked a grave-yard shift at a Tokyo Starbucks together) schedule; the bulk of the renovations were complete, he’d set up a wireless security system and set up his “smart-till” as well.

If the patrons who came by saw that there was no _actual_ money being kept on the premises (because even kids, these days, had debit cards) that was one less reason to target him.

He’d still accept yen, of course, but he wouldn’t be obvious about it.

He wouldn’t have an ATM machine in the café either; that would just be asking for trouble.

And now, the weather still glorious, he’d opened up the door, the tops of the three large, bay windows (the wooden frames looked better than he’d hoped considering he’d purchased them during a sale; who wouldn’t want to buy cheery-red fittings artfully scattered with white and yellow paw prints?) which bracketed the café and started painting.

He’d taken the colour scheme from the windows (because his studies of successful café chains often highlighted the need to pick a theme and stick with it; most people liked uniformity and it looked more professional, apparently: his inner minimalist had wanted to paint everything magnolia and be done with it, though), too. The back wall (which concealed the kitchen of the most part; he’d left the service-opening and decided he’d put some potted herbs there: both practical, useful and stylish) was similarly cheery-red. He’d broken it up with cheap (but nice) framed pictures of cats (because yes, it was illogical _but_ he loved them); the frames, of course, were either white or yellow.

Then the small pilar-walls between the booths and windows were white with one large, matching, yellow-framed cat image hung at the same height running along.

However, at the end of the service bar (that he’d be spending most of his time behind, the display case now gleaming and humming as it worked) was a relatively large, squared space; here, he’d sectioned it into two areas. One housed a relatively long, former dining table which he’d set up as a study space, the walls lined with bookshelves he intended to stock with educational texts and supplies. The other was going to be a video-game hub (because kids liked that kind of thing) with a relatively large TV (bought second hand) and a gaming console (similarly up-cycled but it worked, it came with two controllers and a bundle of RPGs, educational and non-violent problem-solving games).

He’d be keeping the tech locked up until it was asked for and would stress to any children who came to his café that, once it was stolen, it was stolen, and that would be that…

“Ano… excuse me, Aizawa-san?”

Blinking out of his thoughts, his head turning back to the open café door (there was nothing worth stealing in his place yet so he’d left it that way for ventilation; it was all ordered and ready to be delivered, though), Shouta offered a grin at one of the more curious residents of the area. “Midoriya-san” he greeted with a nod and a small smile; “good morning…”

“Good morning to you as well” she returned with a little bow of her head, her hand gently gesturing her shy, freckled son forward; “maa~ isn’t this lovely Izu-chan?” she asked, her eyes widening: “my goodness, do you ever sleep Aizawa-san?” she gasped whilst looking around at the progress he’d made. “My goodness~! This old place is hardly recognisable~!” she praised; “we really like all of the cat pictures too, don’t we son?”

“Y-yes” the boy answered cutely, his All Might figurine pressed to his chest as he peered inside.

“Heh, I’m glad that you approve” he replied good-naturedly whilst putting his paintbrush down on the dust-sheet covered floor (that new linoleum, a glittery red, had been pricey) and stood with a stretch; heh, he’d have to do some kata and stretches later but first, duty called.

“I have your bento ready to go” he said whilst rubbing some of the paint that’d smeared across his hands onto his love-worn, formerly white boiler suit and walking away from the game-hub he was painting yellow pawprints around.

Tch, he seemed to be doing anything to get out of cleaning, retiling and grouting the two small (yet serviceable) toilets, didn’t he?

Which was irrational, he knew; he couldn’t officially open without them being up to code, could he?

“Maa~ you’re a God send” the (usually tired; he noticed how late she normally came home from his windows, her little boy walked towards their apartment-block half an hour later by a blonde woman and a sulky, similarly blonde-haired child) woman breathed, her head bowing once more.

The poor thing…

He’d not meant to talk to her (or drum up business before his café was up and running) however, one evening, he’d been fixing the candy-stripped awning to the support-beam above his newly fitted (and still not broken; he’d seen a few teenagers eyeing them through his CCTV and scared them shitless by speaking to them through the outdoor speakers) windows and saw her.

She was fighting back tears, her grocery bags too heavy for her arms; he couldn’t see the purse she usually carried.

He’d carefully approached and offered her to come inside for a cup of coffee.

At such a small kindness, her dam had finally broken.

Her ex-husband was abroad (and didn’t pay child-support, the prick), her son had been informed he was quirk-less a few months prior (he was heart-broken, his former confidence and energy replaced by shyness and remorse) and, even though she was flogging herself to death at work, making ends meet was becoming difficult.

Then, her purse snatched by a man who’d threatened her with a knife-quirk that evening, she’d genuinely wondered how she was going to keep everything together for her son.

She’d even apologised for bothering him.

_God._

And so, he’d closed up the café, walked her home with the groceries, given her some of his pre-made dinners (free of charge; they were neighbours, after all), called the police and helped her to find a few support-agencies she could contact.

She wasn’t the first parent to be left high and dry by partner, after all.

He’d then insisted that she and her son come by for their lunches until her new credit and debit cards arrived and, just like that, he was already making the kind of difference he’d been hoping for.

“Okay… here’s one for you” he smiled, the plain lunch-box all the better thanks to the little, black paw-print stamper he’d made (customers liked a more personal touch and this also kept his costs down; blank bento boxes were 40% cheaper than decorated one) now passed over to a very gracious Inko. Then, crouching down to meet the six year old’s eye level, he held out the second box to the boy; he was a frightened, skittish little thing and all the more reserved because of his recent, devastating diagnosis.

He reminded him _so much_ of the boys he’d used to look after.

They were all teenagers now and all thriving, too.

He could hardly wait for the next school holiday to roll around so they could visit.

“And this one is for you” he grinned; “would you do me a favour and open it?”

Blinking and nodding, the forest haired child gently took the meal with a wobbly “t-thank you Aizawa-san”, his All Might figure tucked under his arm as he pulled the lid open; “o-oh~! Oh _wow_ ~!” he gasped, his anxiety chased away by delight as he held the box out for his mother to see. “It’s All Might-o~!” he veritably chirped; “Aizawa-san~! You’re so clever~!” he praised his eyes tearing; “maa~ I don’t know if I can eat it~” he close to cried: “it’s too good~! You’ve got his hair right and everything~!”

Chuckling as he stood, his head inclining at the grateful look that Inko sent his way, Shouta huffed whilst folding his arms; “not eating it would be irrational” he stated: “and besides, if you want to take some self-defence lessons with me, you need to make sure you eat properly, alright?”

“Y-yes~! Yes of course, Aizawa-san~! T-thank you~!” the tot stated excitedly before carefully replacing the lid and bowing; “I-I won’t let you down~!”

“I know you won’t” he assured; “now have a good day at school, alright?”

Nodding adamantly, Izuku reverently placed his lunch into his school satchel and kept that magnificent smile upon his face.

Then, as he watched the parent and child go, the café owner couldn’t help but wonder what kind of heartless dickhead would abandon such wonderful people.

Tch.

Not every villain, he reminded himself, ran around taunting the cops and _heroes_ in stupid outfits, did they?

~*~

As the day rolled on, the toilets were _finally_ deep-cleaned and updated with easy to wash-down materials (he was _not_ looking forward to cleaning them; however, he’d helped to potty-train a few kids in his day, so it wasn’t as though he _couldn’t_ handle-mess), Shouta looked around at the spoils of his labour.

Not too shabby at all.

Then, deciding to take a late lunch, he let his hair down (having it tied up all of the time gave him a head-ache) and started towards the service bar’s privacy-gate, his hand going to open it when the security system pinged his smart-phone.

Blinking, he slipped the device out of the boiler-suit’s front pouch and checked the CCTV cameras.

There was a kid (fourteen or so) messing with the dumpster behind his property.

Heh, Yoshida-san had warned him about arsonists; apparently kids got some kind of _thrill_ out setting bins on fire.

Tch, it was a good job he’d purchased that extendable fire-hose, wasn’t it?

“Oi” he said through the camera-speaker set he’d installed, his eyes narrowing when the kid (baggy t-shirt, jeans, old sneakers; shit… why wasn’t he in school? Where were his parents?) froze, his hands on the dumpster; “you okay there?”

Blinking, his brows lifting when the boy looked up at the device, he frowned when he saw the odd markings on the teen’s face.

What he’d mistaken for sleeves _actually_ looked like burned skin, too.

Huh…

Sneering at the camera, a plume of blue flames manifesting from his hair, the kid looked as though he was going to blast his equipment (shit; it was heat and fire resistant to a degree and _sure_ he was insured but…); “can you not?” he heard himself say.

“Eh?” the kid replied, his head cocking before a cruel smirk tugged his lips; “what you gonna do, huh? Call the cops? D’you think _they’ll_ come _here_ to help you, old man?”

_Old man?_

Chuckling (the sound causing the boy to blink) he said “no… no I’m pretty sure they wouldn’t”. Then, with a sigh; “what’re you doing back there, anyway? Surely you’ve got better things to do?”

“Feh, does it _look_ like I do?” the boy snapped.

“Huh… I guess not” he reasoned; “you hungry? I’m about to have lunch…”

“Tch, as if I’d eat with some creepy fuck who pervs on kids through a camera” the other veritably hissed, the tone of his words cutting, the venom suggesting that he’d met such pervs.

Shouta frowned; “you don’t have to eat with me” he said calmly: “and hey, I get it, you should always be careful when strangers speak to you” he added. “ _But_ I have no interest in children other than helping them… I’m a Level 7 listed child-minder and the café I’m opening is going to be a registered study-space” he furthered, his shoulders shrugging lightly even though the other couldn’t see them. “I’ll leave a bento-box on a chair by the front door” he continued; “take it, don’t take it, that’s your choice and sure, I’d prefer that you _didn’t_ melt my security-cameras but hey, that’s what insurance is for, right?”

Then, cutting off the speaker but keeping an eye on the kid as he swiftly moved into the service-bar area and through the fire-door which led to his (not fully functional but clean, the new refrigerators merrily humming in the back ground) kitchen, Shouta grabbed two of his pre-made bento (which he made every morning like a ritual; they were a hobby, really) and walked back out.

The kid, surprisingly, was waiting for him, his relatively tall, lanky form propped by the doorjamb and looking in.

His left hand was on fire.

Heh, he’d not _wanted_ to use his quirk in public (he didn’t need or want anyone’s attention, thank you, and being underestimated in an area like this was always going to be a bonus) _but_ he could if he needed to.

“You got any money, _not so_ old man?”

Blinking, a smile quipping his lips despite himself, the older of the two shook his head; “sorry” he replied as he approached, the boy’s eyes widening (he was probably wondering _why_ he wasn’t running away screaming): “I’m not open yet and, like you said, the cops wouldn’t be rushing over here to investigate a robbery” he admitted. “That smart-till is useless when it’s unplugged and all transactions go through the wireless network in an instant” he shrugged; “I’ve got food though, and a soda if you promise not to torch the place…”

“Tch, isn’t that _what insurance is for_?” the other countered sarcastically, his flameless hand snatching the box dispassionately.

Shit…

This kid looked like he’d been through hell and back (not that he’d say so aloud; he was probably touchy about his scarring… not that he could blame him).

“ _Holy shit…_ ”

Cocking his head to the side, his eyes carefully tracking as the kid went from shoving a tentative chopstick load of seasoned rice into his mouth to shovelling it in, Shouta allowed himself to grin a little as the teen sat on the chair by the door and demolished the box.

“I’ll get you that soda” he offered, his own bento box snagged when he proffered it; then, as he slowly walked to the empty display case (the cans of drink most young people drank these days sat there in an ice box), he watched the youth watching him; “you got a preference?”

“Whatever” he grunted through mouthfuls of tamagoyaki, his face incredulous; “this is _fucking_ amazing” he admitted hotly.

“Heh, thanks” he replied whilst placing the can of coke within the teen’s reach before unscrewing and gulping down a jelly-pouch; damn, he’d probably live off of these things if he could, they were just so _practical_ ; “you want any more?”

“I can’t pay, you know…”

“Did I ask you for any money?” he countered.

“Tch, I don’t want your charity…”

“Well _I_ don’t want to be hit with a penalty for serving food without being officially opened and inspected by the health and safety food commission” he stated, his arms folding; “making bento is… a kind of hobby of mine, that’s all… it’s, _relaxing_ to put the pieces together” he added with a shrug. 

“ _This_ ” the other snorted as though he’d lost his mind; “is a _hobby_?”

“As uncool as it sounds” he grinned before leaning on the bar, his head tilting around his _almost_ finished establishment; “and besides, it’d be kind of stupid to open a café and _not_ serve food you can eat in it, right?”

Huffing and wiping at his mouth, the teen put the boxes on the floor before grabbing his soda and chugging a gulp or two.

“What other things do you make?”

Blinking (he was sure that the teen would have been up and moving by now), Shouta hummed; “various cakes… the European ones are relatively easy, but I guess I’ll see what local tastes are like before I commit to that” he mused: “bread, which I’ll make into those American sandwiches everyone seems to rave about… oh, and pies” he stated. “Pastry can be a pain in the ass if you aren’t careful, though” he sighed, his mind briefly going back to the arguments he’d had with the ovens back at high school, the sound of Moto-sensei laughing and agreeing with him a more pleasant memory from the past.

“Why the hell are you here?”

“Hmm?”

“Tch, don’t look at me like that… you’ve clearly got the skills to make it in Tokyo or Kyoto or something” the other grunted, his drink nearly gone; “you’re not gonna get any snooty, rich mother fuckers coming to this place” he argued.

“Well, it’s a good job that I’m not a fan of snooty, rich mother fuckers then, isn’t it?” he quipped; “strange as this probably sounds, and you wouldn’t be the first to call me crazy, I wanted to set up here because I spent most of my life in a shitty care-centre a few blocks down the way” he revealed. “I wanted to come back here and try to make it, well, _not so shitty_ ” he chuckled; “districts like this deserve nice things, just like anywhere else…”

“Feh, you _are_ crazy” the blue eye youth grunted whilst standing, the empty can crushed in his hand; “see you around, not so old guy” he furthered before walking out of the door, his hands jammed dejectedly in his pockets as he stalked away at speed.

Hmm…

It looked as though he’d found someone else in need of help.

But only time would tell if he’d accept it or not…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... what's my thinking here?
> 
> Well, when Giran introduces Dabi to Shigaraki, he says something along the lines of him "not having done anything big yet" and, of course, he claims to be a follower of Stain.
> 
> This sixteen year old Dabi/Touya is the boy I imagined after his faked-death, wandering and homeless, lost and jaded; this is the boy I think Aizawa could have saved if he'd met him at this stage.
> 
> This _is the boy Aizawa will save; sorry Aizawa/Dabi shippers... this is purely parental..._
> 
> _I am a sucker for Shigaraki/Dabi though so, we'll see..._
> 
> _; 3_


	3. A Good Start...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Warnings include: swearing, angst, feels, parenting-styles and drama.**

A week later saw the café kitted out, thoroughly inspected (every official had given him a glowing report _despite_ warning him off his venture; “ _Aizawa-san, wouldn’t you be better off somewhere else?_ ”, “ _Aizawa-san, my cousin has a wonderful shop in Tokyo and she’d hire you in a heart-beat!_ ”) and ready to open.

Also, thanks to Midoriya Inko showing off her bento at the office she worked at, he’d even had a few people stopping by to enquire about his official launch-date, menu and prices.

The sullen teenager (“ _just call me Dabi_ ”) had similarly been showing up from time to time; he’d become his unofficial taste-tester and had insisted (“ _oi, make me some yakisoba and _maybe_ I won’t torch the place_”) that he make a selection of noddle dishes, too.

Not that he minded; they were relatively inexpensive and quick to make.

Plus, Izuku and his mother had approved of them for a different style of lunch (the hard-working young mother had received her new cards, received compensation from the villain who’d been caught and had insisted on paying for their meals regardless of him discounting her) and, well, if this was the food the community wanted, that’s what they’d have.

He’d also purchased a great, electric Takoyaki-pan; serving up hot, quick portions of the savoury street-food would boost his earnings and the batter was child’s play.

However, baking cakes _was_ something he found particularly satisfying so, as illogical as it might be now that he’d scoped out some of his potential client-base, he’d woken up at five, skipped his usual run and gone downstairs to bake.

The “Devil’s Food Cake” looked _exactly_ as it should.

It looked _even_ better on the display pedestal near the till, too.

God, was there anything better than a predictable outcome?

Humming to himself, his hair tied into a health and safety approved bun at the back of his head, a jaunty black chef’s cap (a gift from the boys he’d lived with; it’d come in the mail the day before: it had a white pawprint on it) topping off the look alongside a similarly black-apron over his black, capped sleeve t-shirt and tailored trousers, Shouta felt…

 _Ready_ , composed and prepared… regardless of one of his former care-centre compatriots having asked him _why_ he’d opened such a vibrant place for the community and dressed up so… _gloomily_.

Well, surely it was only logical, wasn’t it?

All in all sure, black wasn’t the most-friendly colour he could have picked _but_ it disguised most stains, looked professional and, in white thread, he had the name of his establishment sewn (“Noraneko Café”) onto the top of his thick, fire-retardant apron to break the darkness up a little.

The fact that the shoulder straps came out of cat-ear shapes had had _nothing_ to do with him buying it, though…

“Okay… the bread is nearly done… the bento are chilled… the coffee is brewing (he was _not_ doing the ridiculous half-fat, half-skinned, nut-milked monstrosities his class-mates in Tokyo had loved; the ingredients were too expensive and _full_ of chemicals, too)… the menus are out on the tables, so…”

Checking everything over (he wasn’t going to open until seven, so he had half an hour’s respite), the twenty-one-year-old looked to the wide, morning lit windows (lettered in English (because modern people _liked that_ and he was fluent in the language, as well); “Stray Cat Café” stood out in white on one window, red the other and yellow on the final pane).

It looked better than he’d every hoped; however…

He’d had to steel himself for this day.

He’d prepared for the worst (no one would come, vandals would swoop in to wreck the place, a villain would smash through the structure to destroy everything) and hoped for the best; he wasn’t stupid, he’d calculated the risks and sadly, his naysayers could be right. 

This venture was probably doomed to fail…

He wouldn’t make a positive difference…

He’d be bankrupt with no family to support him…

However, he’d tried his best to plan for that and not burned any of the bridges he’d made in the cafes, colleges and dojos he’d worked in.

Which _should_ mean that he had an few “outs” to take should he need them, but…

 _But_ , he wanted this to work; he’d needed the goal to keep his head above water, he’d _needed_ this hope to keep going in a world that’d nearly swallowed him up and forgotten all about him and the boy’s he’d grown up with.

If he could make a difference to them and their lives then he could damn well help other people, too…

***Knock-knock-knock***

Blinking out of his thoughts (heh, he often wandered into them when he was cleaning; tch, if he polished the “in café” drinking mugs anymore he’d be rubbing off the enamel, wouldn’t he?), Shouta looked to the café’s door (reinforced-glass fronted, the kanji for Noraneko and a painted, black cat (his own design; he didn’t need any copywriting drama) stretching under it).

Standing there, her red eyes looking around, was the woman who often looked after Izuku when Inko had to work late, her right-hand waving at him enthusiastically whilst her child peered up at him, his grumpy little face _distinctly_ unimpressed.

Huh…

The opening times _were_ listed on the door, but…

He shouldn’t look a gift horse in the mouth, should he?

Putting down the mug, he pushed the privacy hatch out of his way, stepped into the café proper and unlocked the door.

“Maa~ Aizawa-san~” the woman greeted, her hand snagging his and giving it a firm shake; “oh~ I’ve been looking forward to meeting _you_ in person~!” she continued: “Inko-chan has just been _raving_ about you~” she praised.

“She… she’s very kind” he replied in turn, his hand pulling away (with a wince; shit, that was quite the handshake) as he returned to his place behind the counter whilst the boy scampered to the long, wide display case, his mouth opening a little whilst his mother leaned down to do the same.

“My God” she breathed; “you… _you_ make all of these from scratch?” she asked, her tone disbelieving.

“Yes” he replied with a nod, his right brow cocking; “may I get you anything?”

Grinning excitedly, the ashy blonde winked at him before looking up at the similarly long and wide menu, her brows rising at the prices; “that… that’s so… _reasonable_ ~!” she stated bewilderedly.

“There’s no point over-charging people” Shouta replied (he’d often found it strange that eatery owners seemed to triple and quadruple prices; he wasn’t greedy, he just needed to cover his expenses, and he wasn’t sure why other’s seemed to hell bent on making money… it didn’t make you any happier from what he could see); “what would you like, Bakugo-san?”

“ _Wwwaaahhhhh~!_ You already know my name, you darling boy~! You best be careful, I’m a married woman you know~!” she preened.

Watching her blush and fan at her face, the younger man felt his head tilting confusedly.

Shit…

 _Had_ he accidentally flirted with her?

So many of his classmates and colleagues over the years had told him that he seemed impervious and oblivious to such things.

Heh, relationships were illogical and unnecessarily complicated anyway.

 _No thanks_ …

“Oi, we’re gonna be late for school” the child grunted, his arms crossed huffily; “and who’d _want_ to come on to you anyway, you old hag~!?”

“Lousy brat~!” she laughed, a light tap to his forehead causing the kid to growl (ahh… _modern parenting_ ; goody); “maa~ Aizawa-kun, please excuse Katsuki’s poor manners~” she grinned before roughly ruffling those spiky-jags of hair: “he’s a chip off of the young, attractive block, wouldn’t you say, hmm~”

 _Maybe_ he wasn’t cut out to own a café after all.

It’d be wrong of him to kick a customer out, wouldn’t it?

 _Shit_ …

“Ma~! You’re _so_ embarrassing~!” the angry imp snarled; “can we _please_ just get some food and go already~?!”

‘ _Tch, amen kid_ ’ he thought as the woman sighed before clapping her hands together; “yosh~!” she cheered: “we’ll take those two teriyaki-chicken sub-rolls… two cans of coke, a flat-white coffee for me to go, oh~! Those yakisoba boxes look good, I’ll take one and… ano? _Devil’s Food Cake_?” she blinked, her English a little off.

“It’s an American classic with a few twists I’ve added to combat some of the richness” he supplied mildly; “it’s a caramel-chocolate cake covered in fudge-frosting, dark-chocolate pieces are baked in and there’re two layers of cherry-compote running through it” he described: “all of the allergy information is listed on that card and…”

“I’ll take four pieces~!”

Blinking (the woman hardly seemed the type to indulge in such things; although, Inko had told him that she was a former Pro hero who still liked to train and hell, calories were calories, weren’t they? Plus, he’d not even _opened_ yet and, already, he was going to have 4,000 yen in his smart-till’s account, so…) Shouta nodded.

Then, in a series of swift and efficient movements, he’d boxed up the cake, packed everything into a white, sturdy-paper bag (complete with black-pawprints, of course) and served the coffee.

“ _Wow~!_ ” the woman exclaimed; “do you have a speed quirk, or something?”

“No” he replied simply whilst ringing up the order, his head nodding when her card was accepted; “thank you for your business and have a good day…”

“Maa~ same to you Aizawa-kun~! Katsuki? Stop being a brat and say thank you~!”

“Thank you!” the boy barked before, with a blink, they locked eyes; “oi, Aizawa, is it true? D’you… do you _really_ make All Might bento?”

Regarding the child whilst his mother added complimentary sugar and crème to her already milked-coffee ( _o-kay?_ ); “I do” he stated, his arms folding.

Heh, getting the little brute to ask was _probably_ a step too far _but_ he’d not particularly liked his attitude.

He didn’t like how Izuku cowered away from him as he walked home, either.

No.

 _This_ boy needed some humility and a role-model that challenged him with words, not yelling and flicking.

“Can… can I have one?”

“Yes, you _may_ ” he said, his lips hazarding a grin when the kid blushed at the correction; “I make bento fresh every morning, so just let me know when you want one and I’ll make one for you, alright?”

“Aww~ that’s wonderful~” the red eyed woman smiled; “now, how about a _proper_ thank you, hmm?”

“Thank you very much, sir” the child said dutifully, his spite virtually gone in the face of such a treat (shit; he hoped that the ‘ _Symbol of Peace’s_ PR team didn’t catch wind of this and try to sue him) whilst he bowed politely; Shouta nodded back. 

“We’ll come by for it tomorrow… ahh, at the proper time~ sorry~!” the former Pro chuckled whilst handing him her business card (whilst he moved to do the same); “we were just _so_ excited to come by, ahh~ good luck on your first day~” she added with her own bow.

“Thank you, Bakugo-san…”

“Hora-hora~ call me Mistsuki~ please~”

“God Ma! Just shut up would you~?!”

“Take your own advice, stupid brat~!”

Watching them go, a sweat-drop or two dotting his temple, the erasure quirk user sighed and looked back at the clock.

Good luck, indeed…

~*~

At 07:00, a veritable _rush_ of “salary-men and women” happened upon him…

“ _God~! That coffee is good~! Can I get another, please?_ ”

He’d been _almost_ overwhelmed; shit, were these people so short of good food at honest prices?

“ _Please tell me that that there’s more cake~! I **need** something to sweeten my boss with~!_”

It looked as though every hard-working person in the area had come to him this morning; double shit~! He was having to take in more physical yen then he’d liked ( _why_ weren’t people using debit and credit cards~?) _but_ , thanks to his stock and rational thinking, he was more than prepared to meet their needs…

“ _Aizawa-san~! Do you make lunch time deliveries~?!_ ”

Triple shit!

He’d never even _thought_ of that; the whole point of the café, of course, was to create a much-needed social space though, wasn’t it?

Although he’d not expected to be _this_ busy…

However, as 09:00 rolled around, his bento-boxes were gone (along with the yakisoba; heh, Dabi would have to wait for more if he came by today), all of his fresh bread and sandwiches were similarly taken and the “Devil’s Food Cake” (alongside the two gateaux he’d had in reserve) was nothing but crumbs. He wondered, dazedly, as he placed the classic “Victoria Sponge” with its glistening strawberries, powdered sugar and freshly whipped cream out for any other patrons to view, if he’d underestimated demand…

Because hell, he wasn’t in this for the money but…

This was a better start than he’d ever dreamed of having…

“Hey, not so old guy.”

Offering the teen (who, despite appearances, had _definitely_ taken a shine to him) a nod and a smile, Shouta offered the booth directly across from him for the boy to lounge in; “if you want your usual” he said: “then it’s going to take a little while” he chuckled.

“Tch, I saw the crowds” he snorted, his form (clad in similarly baggy but different, thank goodness, clothes) slumping into the bench he’d claimed for himself; “ _you’re_ going to need to up your game if more come by for lunch, aren’t you?”

“Are you offering to help?” he asked, his brow quirked as the teen (sixteen; he’d not talked about a family: he could “ _take care of myself, you nosey prick_ ”) blinked at him.

“ _Eh?_ ”

“Well” he pushed; “you’re not wrong” he admitted: “I’ve had the time to restock and I’ve made what should be enough food… for now” he continued. “ _But_ I can’t be in two places at once” he shrugged; “d’you want a job here or not?”

“Heh” the younger huffed whilst gesturing to himself; “you’re not scared that I’ll frighten off your customers?”

“If they didn’t want to be served by you then they wouldn’t be welcomed here” he returned pointedly, his eyes locking on the boy who’d been frequenting his establishment, quite regularly, for the past two weeks; “I’d pay you the going rate” he tempted: “just think about it, alright?”

“Feh, you’re _insane_ ” Dabi snorted; “you don’t know about the things I’ve done…”

“And I don’t care, either” Shouta cut in, his eyes narrowing; “if you work here, treat the customers with respect and help me to keep the place clean, then why should I?” he asked, his tone firm: “you’re so much more than your past” he reminded. “It’s the future that’s important…”

“What d’you know?” the flame quirk user sneered; “you’re a fucking saint, or something” he seethed: “I’m just…”

“Heh, I’m no saint” he interrupted, a little chuckle leaving him; “I’m just a socially awkward orphan who got lucky, that’s all” he revealed: “sure, I’ve worked hard and I plan like a control freak _but_ I’m nothing special” he shrugged. “I just want to do what I can, while I can” he added, their eyes locking; “and I wouldn’t dream of patronising you… shit, I don’t know who you are or what you’ve had to live through… I’m just a guy trying to run a café to help out people who’ve been left to rot in this place” he shrugged. “I’m no hero… hell, I don’t even believe in the concept” he admitted, the younger man’s eyes widening as he spoke; “but I _definitely_ don’t believe in throwing people away” he breathed.

“You’re not…”

“ _Dabi_ ” he said softly; “regardless of whether you’d like a job here or not… you’re always welcome, okay?” he asked, his smile strengthening a bit when the teen baulked at him.

“So, you want yakisoba, right? And a coke?”

Watching as the youth stared at him before looking away with a curse, his head nodding once, Shouta swiftly entered the kitchen, his eyes watching as the teen absentmindedly fiddled with a soy-sauce bottle left on the table of his preferred booth through the herb-plant dotted viewing hatch.

One day, he thought, and hopefully one day soon…

He could get the kid to open up a little more…

He could get the kid to value himself…

It was worth a try, wasn’t it?

~*~

The teen had been abnormally quiet that morning; he’d offered strained thanks for the meal (still free; he was a kid in need and he wouldn’t begrudge him for it) and then stormed off to… wherever it was that he went.

He certainly wasn’t in school (yet he could tell be certain inflections that the other had been educated to a good standard, somewhere; his reading was pretty good too if the way he’d huffed at the teaching aides he’d brought was anything to go by) and, from the looks of things, was probably in some kind of “social care”.

Just as he’d been.

However, he wasn’t the kid’s father and he was too old to be adopted, which meant he’d just have to bide his time; with any luck, he could help to make Dabi’s life better, it’d just take time…

Speaking of which, it was a damned good thing that he’d not seen his morning “rush” as a fluke for, between 12:00 and 14:00, even _more_ people had descended upon him.

Some had grabbed food and drink to sprint away with…

Other’s had slouched into his seating areas, their praise of the free wifi (because why wouldn’t he?) ringing around the room as they gratefully took their half-hours break to eat and rest…

Hell, at this rate he’d need to double his stock orders and his business cards were all but gone…

It’d felt…

 _Amazing_.

He’d never been lazy (regardless of enjoying the occasional nap) and, with a rigorous training regime under his belt for the majority of his life, taking orders, waiting tables and checking on the bathroom was a relative breeze.

What was _better_ , however, was that several parents had preened over the study area; “can my kid come by tonight?”, “you’re a registered child-minder? Yatta~!” and “my daughter is going to love coming here”.

He’d be having at least a few kids in his café that evening and all of them would have their pick of a discounted meal so long as they studied and finished their homework.

Heh, it was probably irrational to be pleased by such a thing, but…

 _But_ this was the difference he’d ultimately wanted to make…

There was _nothing_ more satisfying than realising this goal…


	4. Gainful Employment...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Warnings include: swearing, references to sexual assault, references to dangerous situations, references to upsetting themes, upsetting themes, fffffffffffeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeellllllllllllllllllllsssssssssssssssssss~! Canon typical peril/violence, BAMF Aizawa and an abusive dickhead getting hit where it hurts!**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also * **spoiler alert to anyone who doesn't read the manga** *
> 
> Shirakumo Oboro is NOT Kurogiri in this fic; according the the manga, All for One was originally after Aizawa Shouta in the Vigilantes manga but took Oboro's body when it was brought to the morgue. I figure All for One might not have come across Oboro/that fight with Garvey might not have happened since Oboro doesn't know Shouta here/they didn't go to UA together...
> 
> Therefore, in this AU, he is alive/well and working with Hizashi and Nemuri~!

“Did you mean what you said this morning?”

At first, when Dabi had returned that evening (his hands holding a carrier bag of… clothes?), Shota had been… surprised.

He’d looked into the boy (unobtrusively, of course) as he’d loitered around him more and more; there were no “missing persons” posters matching his description and, at the age of fifteen, the police in this district saw people of that age as “adults” (which was madness, but, it meant more teens could be prosecuted, didn’t it? Tch). Therefore, since no one was looking for him, he probably _was_ the age he stated; this meant that he didn’t have to live at home, that he may have chosen to leave his home and family by choice.

He’d met many young people who’d done such things.

It made his stomach hurt just thinking about it for, unlike them, he’d had loving parents and a good life before the accident that’d led to their deaths.

He couldn’t image what it’d be like to have parents who’d purposefully harm and neglect you; that _may_ have explained the others’ scarring, too.

God; that’d similarly explain his abrasiveness.

He’d thought that he’d scared him off with his offer, as well.

That’s why, when the other entered, he’d been too absorbed in supervising the four kids who’d come to the study area (Uraraka Ochaco; her father in tears at the discounted food, Asui Tsuyu; her parents similarly pleased that she had a safe-place to study alongside Izuku and Katuski, the latter insisting that _Deku_ stay away from him; _hmm_ ) to realise he’d come in.

“I’m not in the habit of saying things I don’t mean” he’d replied as they spoke; “that’d be irrational” he reminded, his eyes sneaking to some of the other patrons who were simply relaxing with drinks, plates of cookies, cake and bowls of Takoyaki before observing the teen carefully.

“D’you need a place to stay, too?”

“Tch, I’m not here to be your _twink_ …”

“And I have _no_ interest in sleeping with anyone, let alone minors” he snipped quietly, his brows furrowing; “and God… I am so sorry if that’s been something you…”

“Heh, people have tried” the youth countered, a flicker of flame ghosting around his hair, his features conflicted.

“I have a spare room” Shota heard himself offer; “it’s yours, if you want it…”

“I _can’t_ pay…”

“I don’t want your money… or anything else” he confided as he approached him, his tone lacquered with concern as they stood between the study area (full of laughter, of children making friends and offering advice despite Katsuki’s insistence that he didn’t “ _need any help from nerds like you~!_ ”) and the café proper; this could have been him…

 _He_ could have ended up on the streets…

Bitter, unloved, _unwanted_ …

No one should have to feel that way…

“Why?” the other breathed, his turquoise eyes narrowing; “ _why_?”

“Because you look like you need a break, Dabi” he answered carefully; “and I’m fortunate enough to be in the position to give it to you” he shrugged: “no tricks, no schemes but, full disclosure? I don’t know what a family is or what families are _supposed_ to do and I’m not offering something so… _intrusive_ ” he admitted. “And besides, having a food taster on hand is going to be pretty useful if this place keeps being busy, right?”

Snorting, those tired eyes rolling, the teen regarded him carefully; “fine” he said hotly: “I’ll take your room and take the job you’re offering” he huffed as though it’d been forced on him. “But if I don’t like anything, I’m gone.”

“Understood” he returned; “why don’t you go sit down over there and then I’ll get you something to eat, alright?”

~*~

As the evening rolled around, Katsuki had been collected by his mother who’d _begged_ him for a whole ‘Devil’s Food Cake’ just as he’d made the one she’d shared at work that day, her purse waved in his face as she pleaded for the dessert, made to order, for Friday. He’d agreed (he should have the time, he could put the ingredients aside and it was relatively easy to do; his café’s ovens were much more reasonable than ones he’d had previously) and watched, bewilderedly, as she’d _squealed_ into her phone.

Katsuki had simply rolled his eyes before, almost shyly (his gaze checking to make sure that the other kids weren’t eavesdropping), he’d reminded him about the All Might bento.

He’d assured him it’d be ready.

The soft smile of the kid’s face _hadn’t_ made him feel satisfied, not at all. 

Then, the Bakugo storm having left (in a blaze of angry shouting that had had even Dabi cocking an eyebrow; the teen had stayed, eaten, drank and set up the gaming counsel for him: he’d just said “tch, hand it over already” and done it), he returned his attention to the three kids who’d be staying until 19:00.

They were already fast friends.

Tch, Izuku looked as though all of his Christmas’ had come at once.

It was good to know that the shy child (so enamoured with the girls and their quirks, his pencil scratching down notes at lightning speed as they sat together in one of the booths, their meals gratefully eaten alongside the few healthy side-dishes he’d given them) was receiving positive attention for a change.

The girls (both similarly ostracised in their own elementary schools; Ochaco’s family were straddling the poverty line (something the playground bullies found hilarious; heh, he remembered such teasing himself) and Tsuyu, well, there was no disguising the mutation of her quirk) were preening under his questions and praise.

Heh.

It was great to see, it was _good_ to know that they now had a place to come.

Then, his gaze casting around the (thank goodness) much quieter café, he nodded at Dabi (who was playing through one of the games, the teen nodding back) before he left the service bar and entered the café proper, his spray-bottle and cleaning cloth in hand.

He _knew_ that spending a little more in the thick, scratch resistant tables tops would be worth it as the coffee stains, crumbs and sauce splashes vanished with a wipe.

 _Very_ satisfying.

“Oi.”

Blinking, he looked up to find his (lodger? Employee?) standing there, his hand outstretched; “you’ve got better things to do right?” he huffed: “I can finish this…”

“You sure?” he asked, his brow cocked; “we haven’t put an employment contract together yet…”

“Just give them here, not so old guy” the other grumped before shooing him away.

Grinning despite himself (heh, he’d have to give the kid one of his spare aprons and order a new cap for him, too), Shouta made his way to the service bar and ran over the stock he had left to sell that day.

Heh…

There wasn’t a lot of it…

Three sandwiches, one slice of cake (a small lemon drizzle with Chantilly cream that he’d been saving for the next day) and a small tub of Takoyaki batter; luckily, he had ready to go ingredients in the kitchen if any other people came in or the kids’ parents were hungry, but…

Damn, it was good job he’d not started offering self-defence classes just yet; he was going to have a relatively busy night and early morning.

Hmm…

It was similarly fortuitous that he was closing at 20:00…

* **Ding-ding** *

Snapping his attention to the café’s door (heh, that little cat-bell was well worth the time he’d taken to clean it), Shouta stood a little straighter as a woman who’d been clocked on his CCTV in the dead of night coming and going around the huge apartment that loomed over his little establishment) cautiously approached the counter.

Behind her cheap sunglasses, he could see a black-eye blooming.

“Hello” he greeted evenly; “what can I get you?”

“Umm” she tried, her oversized coat wrapped about her (despite the May warmth; he’d have to start using the air-con soon); “ugh… can I just get a glass of water?”

“Of course” he said before gesturing to the booth directly across from him (he was sure Dabi wouldn’t mind someone taking his spot; heh, the teen had wiped everything down, returned the cleaner to it’s little station and was now staring bewilderedly at Izuku as the child talked his ear off about his quirk; huh); “please have a seat…”

“Oh… ugh… I wouldn’t want to…”

“Ma’am, you’re welcome to sit” he said softly, his expression similarly softening as she flinched a little but conceded and sank into the comfortable seat with a sigh.

She was probably a sex-worker with few options (tch, _no one_ should have to be in that position unless they wanted to be) or someone trapped in a love-less marriage or relationship with no outs; not that he’d make any assumptions (because that would be irrational) but he’d seen people _broken_ by such things before.

And this woman, whoever she was and whatever she did, looked like she was on the edge.

Filling up five glasses (and adding one of his homemade syrups; mint and camomile, something few people were allergic to and many found soothing: her voice sounded raspy through tears), he plated up the cake and approached her with a tray, his free hand putting the dessert and a glass in front of her.

“O-oh I… I can’t…”

“We’re closing in two hours, ma’am” he offered; “you’d be doing me a favour” he assured: “unless you don’t like lemon, mint and camomile?”

Blinking at him owlishly, her coat tightening a little more, she tried to smile at him; “I… I really…”

“Oi” Dabi cut in, his grunt causing them both to look at him, the woman’s eyes widening slightly; “he does this kind of crazy shit alla the time” he shrugged: “you’re better of just eating it, Shinsou” he urged before slipping into the bench across from her.

Rubbing hastily at her eyes, the dusty-lilac haired woman sniffed, nodded and picked up the fork to eat.

Sharing a look with the teen, who waved him off, Shouta nodded before placing a glass before the scarred youth and walking towards the six-year-olds, their hands gratefully accepting the drinks.

“Oh wow~ Aizawa-san~ this is so yummy~” the little brunette smiled; “ano… haven’t I already had my drink with a meal?” she asked a little worriedly.

“It’s on the house, kid” he assured; “staying hydrated is important when you’re young and working hard at school” he furthered, the girl’s smile returning at his words.

“Thank you, Aizawa-san, kero~”

“Yes, thank you, sir~” the others were quick to add, Izuku’s glass half drank already (heh; his mouth had rarely closed all afternoon, had it? It… was nice to see him coming out of his shell, wasn’t it?)

Nodding at their gratitude, the café owner put the empty tray under his arm, checked on the two quietly talking salary-men crowded in the back booth (both exhausted, grateful and ordering another two coffees, their yen held out to him as neither were ready to move) and moved back to the service bar to begin making the drinks.

He should have _known_ that things were going too well…

“There you are, you little _bitch_ ~!”

The door had boomed open, almost detaching the bell and, in a flash of movement, he was there, his six-foot-tall form standing between the gasping woman and a near seven-foot, muscle bound dick head whose orange eyes were narrowed angrily, sparks of energy bristling from his shoulders.

“Can I help you, sir?” he asked calmly, his hand now the one waving at Dabi (who’d stood, blue flames flickering from his body; the kid would get in trouble if he used his (probably unregistered) quirk, damn it) whilst the children gasped behind him, the woman cowered and the salary-men were rapidly whispering into their phones.

“ _Sir_ , huh?” the grey-skinned man snorted; “yeah… yeah, you can help me by fucking off, pipsqueak!” he snarled: “that whore and I have got…”

“I’m only going to ask you to leave once, sir” he stated, his tone bored, his posture loose.

“Y-you, _you’re only_ … ah… ahahahahaaaa~!” the brute laughed, his left-hand balling into a fist as he slammed it into the palm of his right; “you’re _dead_ , you… _ooooffffffff~!!_ ”

Activating his quirk (his cap and hair-tie dislodging in its wake), the other’s defences (and any protection offered by his unusual colouring; there was a Pro made out of concrete, wasn’t there?) completely down and his movements too quick for him to follow besides, Shouta slammed a particularly brutal kick into the man’s groin. Then, not even a split-second later (he couldn’t afford to let up on a man of this size), he made to knock the bastard unconscious with a vicious upper cut, the other keeling backwards with a high-pitched squeal.

Watching dispassionately as he fell whilst giving his right hand a little shake (he’d probably have some light bruising, nothing to stop him from working, though), the café owner looked down at the man, his mouth lolled open, his limbs quivering in a pain he wouldn’t be conscious of until he came around, and huffed.

Heh, it looked as though he’d get some weight training in today, after all, didn’t it?

And so, with a sigh, he walked a step towards his service bar, snagged the roll of duct-tape he’d left on the concealed worktop beneath it (one of his previous employers had stressed to him that such things were vital) and went about quickly and effectively restraining him. The process was relatively simple and quick (he shouldn’t relish the thought of the brute wincing when it was ripped off, but still); however, he didn’t deactivate his quirk until the other was thoroughly incapacitated, just to be safe.

“H-holy shit…”

Blinking (oh yeah, there were people in the café, weren’t there?), Shouta looked back at a wild eyed Dabi, a still distressed woman, starry-eyed children and gawping salary men, their phones still pressed to their ears.

“Are the cops coming?” he asked whilst leaning down to grab his cap and bobble, his hands shoving his hair back up.

“P-pros… some… they… in five minutes…” the fish-featured office worker managed the stutter, his eyes the size of saucers.

“Tch, the cops would have been better” he lamented to himself; “but, I suppose they can drag him out of here” he shrugged: “I’ll get you your coffee” he added, his eyes looking back down at the hog-tied bastard grimly whilst moving to do so. Then, the percolator set, he looked back at his patrons, his right brow cocked; “umm…”

They were all staring at him as though he’d grown a second head.

“What?” he asked the room at large.

“ _What?_ He says” Dabi repeated dubiously as the young woman (who was probably only a few years older than him) pressed napkins into her eyes whilst the children gave a loud cheer (that was similarly echoed by the salarymen).

“Holy crow~!” Izuku called, his little form bouncing excitedly on the linoleum floor; “A-A-izawa-san~ are… are you a Pro, or something~!?” he gushed.

“Pro?” he snorted, his head shaking; “I’m sorry to disappoint you, Izuku, but I’m not really in to the whole… _hero_ thing” he advised, his eyes slanting to the teenager who swallowed thickly before relaxing a touch.

He looked… relieved?

Hmm…

“Y-you… you’re not?” the boy gasped (as though he’d just kicked a puppy or something); “but…”

“Izuku” he spoke, his body turning to pouring the coffees that’d been paid for; “I’m not meaning to burst your bubble here, because I know how much you want to follow your dream, and I commend you for it” he promised, the drinks now resting on a tray that he’d grab on the walk around. “However, thinking about such things logically… as good and great as _some_ heroes are, too many of them aren’t in their profession for the right reasons” he mused. “Tch, a profession that praises people with _flashy_ quirks, good looks and big smiles and pushes _everyone_ else to the wayside” he shrugged as he approached him, his expression softening when the other looked stricken; “to me? I think such things are little… false” he tried to explain.

Then, in a gesture he hadn’t meant to make (he’d apologise to Inko later if he’d over-stepped), he affectionately ruffled the child’s hair (as he had with the boys he’d helped to raise); “you don’t need a quirk, flashy or otherwise, to be a good person who makes a difference” he said, the youth now looking at him in wonder. “ _Everyone_ , no matter where they come from, what they look like or what their family situation is, has the power to improve themselves, build skill sets and change things for the better… remember that” he furthered.

Nodding, his face spellbound, Izuku blushed a little and touched his hair when he pulled away, the little girls similarly looking at him as though he’d just said something earth-shattering.

Tch, it was just common sense, wasn’t it?

“Maa~ Aizawa-san, you’re… you’re just” the grateful salaryman with suckers peppering the majority of his skin breathed; “neh… I was looking at that noticeboard over there… you, you’re offering self-defence lessons for kids on Sundays, right?”

“That’s right” he replied.

“Ano… would you consider doing a class for adults, too?” he asked, his face a little sheepish; “this… this is a rough place and, well? It’d be nice if I knew some moves, you know?”

Blinking at him (he had instructed adults before; he’d spent a year predominantly teaching in Moto-sensei’s dojo after graduating high school), Shouta cocked his head a little. “I hadn’t thought that older people would be interested” he admitted. “However, if that’s something you’d want…”

“I would~!”

“Me too~!” his fish-featured friend nodded animatedly.

“Alright” he agreed; “I’ll consider it… we can have a trial run this Sunday” he stated: “the café will be closed and we’ll be using a marquee outside if…”

***Ding-ding!***

“We’re here to—! _Ugh_ …”

Turning towards the door (that’d been thrown open _again_ ; shit, he’d need to check the hinges), the café owner regarded the two (ridiculously dressed) men who were stood there, their eyes blinking at the unconscious, expertly restrained body on the floor before looking around.

“Umm…”

“You’re free to take him any time” he said nonchalantly, his booted feet walking him forward to put the tray back onto the service bar; “thank you for your hard work” he added pointedly, hoping that the men would take the hint and do as asked.

“O-oh my gosh~!”

‘ _Why Izuku, why?_ ’

“It… it’s Present Mic and Loud Cloud~!” he gushed, his little hands grabbing for his note book whilst Tsuyu and Ochaco squealed.

Tch, kids…

“Hey there, lil’listener~!” the blonde smiled, his garish hair unmoving as he pointed finger guns at the kid whilst the white-haired man waved at them with a grin; “are _you_ the super-fan who called for us, huh~?!”

“No, he wasn’t” Shouta stated; “and, as you can see, the threat has been contained” he said bluntly: “could you please get him…”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, _whoa_ ” the taller of the pair cut in, his sun-kissed hands making abortive gestures; “we need some…”

“That man” he interrupted with a dispassionate nod at the unconscious moron; “entered my place of business, insulted one of my patrons and threatened my life” he continued: “I’ve made a legal, citizens arrest using my registered quirk” he added.

“Yes but…”

“But _what_?” he grunted; “you don’t have the powers _or_ the authority to question me or my customers and, for every minute of time you’re wasting, _he_ could wake up and cause damage to my establishment or, worse still, anyone in here” he reminded. “There are _children_ who need to be protected and I shouldn’t need to tell you that” he stated sharply when the _heroes_ looked as though they were going to open their stupid mouths again.

Shoulders deflating, a quickly muttered conversation shared, the Pros then grabbed the man (one by the shoulders, the other by the boots) and started to drag-pull him outside.

 _Hooray_ …

“ _You_ are my fucking hero, Aizawa” Dabi laughed when the door closed behind them; “that was _poetry_!”

Snorting, his eyes watching as the men continued to bicker outside whilst a _cloud_ swamped the sleeper, Shouta approached the teen with a “thanks” before looking to the woman (Shinsou?), his smile returning; “you okay?”

“I…” she breathed, a little calmer before she ducked her head; “he… he’s one of my _Johns_ ” she said quietly, her arms hugging around her middle: “w-when, when the police come, I…”

Tch, no wonder she was so nervous; sex-work was illegal _despite_ the lack of counselling, support and career-path options that were available to people who’d had a shit start in life and the spiking numbers of human-trafficking rings, thugs and pimps looking to make money out of human misery.

God.

It made him angry.

Crouching down so he was at her eye level, the raven-haired man nodded; “no one needs to know what your profession is” he offered in a whisper (the kids were too busy staring out of the window at the heroes, the salary men doing the same, their phones flashing photos). “I’ll file the report with the police” he told her; “he threatened my life, I have it on CCTV” he furthered with a gesture to the cameras in the ceiling: “as far as I’m concerned, he was just a thug looking to attack me and one of my customers, alright?”

Looking at him, her eyes filling with fresh tears, the woman nodded through a wobbly smile.

“T-thank you… Aizawa-sa…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wah~!
> 
> Poor Shinsou-san~! And yes, she is Hitoshi's mother...
> 
> ;_;


	5. What makes a Parent...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Warnings include: ANGST, reflection of past/non sexual child abuse, Endeavours A+ Parenting and ffffffffffffffffeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeellllllllllllllllllllllsssssssssssssss~!!**

As 19:00 approached, the police had arrived, he’d given an official statement (he’d sent Dabi, who’d looked progressively more uneasy, into the kitchen and told him to eat the sandwiches for his evening meal), shown them his quirk-licence, handed over a flash-drive of the CCTV footage and greeted the children’s’ parents as they rushed in.

The kids were balls of energy and already glamourising his exploits (their parents had thanked him, paid him and taken the tots to the heroes still loitering around outside for autographs or something), the salarymen had patted him on the shoulder and, after such an evening, he’d closed up early.

Shinsou Kimiko, he’d insisted, was still sat on the bench.

“I don’t mean to pry” he started, his body leaning against the table; “but… do you have some place to go?”

“I… I have… have an apartment” she murmured quietly, her head nodding to the grey, giant, rundown complex looming over them; “me… me and my son we… we need-d money because… because my h-husband d-died…”

Pulling out some more napkins, he passed them to her and let her settle a bit.

Shit.

She had a kid…

A kid who was who knew where right now…

“I… we… we had to move here a… a month ago I… I couldn’t afford the rent elsewhere” she continued after a beat; “H-Hitoshi’s been… been _so_ brave and I… I have to… to leave him so often but he… he’s so brave” she tried to laugh. “I… his father and I we… we married s-straight out of h-high school and I… he was the… the smart one” she shuddered; “and I… I just had… had the l-looks…” she chuckled, the sound a little hysterical: “and… and Boss-sama-a… he… he runs this block he… he wants me to… to work for him… but… but I…”

“Shinsou-san” he carefully cut in; “I know it’s not much but, I can offer you a job here, if you like” he said.

“W-what?” she baulked.

“Think about it” he shrugged; “your son can stay here when school’s out and I can see you both home in the evenings” he offered: “I’ll give you full training and there should always be food available” he mused.

“T-that… that’s very kind, Aizawa-san” she murmured; “a-ano… I don’t want to cause you any more trouble…”

“You won’t” he told her calmly; “regardless of anything else, you’re always welcome here, alright?”

~*~

Watching as she scurried home (they’d exchanged numbers and she’d promised to call him if she needed anything; she was giving her boy (six, by God) his number too, just in case: he’d be coming by after school), Shouta sighed, his hands redoing the locks.

The heroes, by now, had fucked off to wherever they were needed next and now all had to do was tidy things up, pray that Dabi was still around (and that he hadn’t trashed the place; a more sensible part of his brain was accosting him from trusting the kid with so much, so soon), get him settled upstairs and start preparing his wares…

“You gonna offer _everyone_ around here a job, not so old guy?”

Blinking, his hands preoccupied with filling his mop bucket up with boiling water and cinnamon scent cleaner, the café owner watched as the teen he’d been thinking about walked through the kitchen’s fire door, one of the sandwiches on a plate that he pushed towards him on the service bar.

“No, _that_ would be irrational” he replied with a grin; “thank you, by the way.”

“Tch, what for?”

“You were willing to get rid of that guy, weren’t you?” he asked, their eyes locking; “regardless of what that might mean for you, you weren’t going to let him hurt Shinsou-san, were you?”

“That prick had it coming” the other replied blithely, before, his form leaning on the work top to look at him carefully; “and you gave it to him _pretty_ hard” he smirked: “and now I know why you weren’t scared of me that day… you can erase quirks, can’t you?”

Humming through a nod, his mop dunked and wrung out, the older shrugged a little; “you’re partly right” he admitted: “I wasn’t scared about property damage” he told him. “But I wasn’t scared of you because you didn’t give me a reason to be…”

“What?”

“When I looked at your face” he began, the steaming fabric now sliding across the linoleum; “I saw an expression that’d stared back at me in the mirror a thousand times or more” he explained, the other’s scowl slowly softening: “the same expression that the four kids I helped to raise in our care-centre wore most days…”

“Tch, and what _expression_ is that?” the younger chuffed, his arms folding gruffly.

“One that says ‘ _what the fuck did I do to get shit on so hard?_ ’” he answered honestly; “one that wonders _why_ the universe picked _you_ to spit on when everyone else seems to be _so_ happy” he furthered, their eyes meeting. “Am I wrong?”

Scoffing, the dark-haired boy looked away.

“I’m not telling you anything…”

“And I didn’t ask” he reminded; “but I’m here to listen if you ever change your mind” he assured whilst shoving his filled bucket further down the way.

Heh, he could _hardly wait_ to tackle the toilets…

“Do… do you need any help?”

Smiling, he nodded at the cleaning station at the end of the service-bar; “the tables could do with another wipe-down” he said.

Nodding, Dabi was moving before he’d finished talking, those turquoise eyes rolling; “make sure you eat that sandwich” he called over his shoulder: “you gotta eat too, right?”

~*~

By 21:00, the café was sparkling, most of his prep work was done (he was glad that he’d kept his menu quick and simple), the bread-makers were churning, all of the dishes were washed and dried a’la flame-quirk and he’d even baked a few dozen scones (that’d keep and be just as enjoyable tomorrow)…

The kid had watched, asked questions and even grabbed a few of the bigger items he’d need out of the back-pantry; he’d watched him sneak an apple and told him to take two…

“I hope you’re not expecting the Ritz” he told his lodger was they walked up the back-stairs to the apartment; “see how you like it and, if at the end of the week you’re happy to stay here, I’ll get you a key-cut, alright?”

“Tch, it beats sleeping behind the Seven Eleven” he heard the other mutter.

Furrowing his brows, Shouta hummed in the back of his throat before jamming his key into the door at the top of the stairs and pushed the door open.

Then, flicking on the switch, he walked in and watched as the other followed.

“Ugh” the sixteen-year-old blinked; “where is all of your stuff?”

“Heh, you’re looking at it” he stated with a shrug; “it’s impractical to buy things that don’t serve a purpose” he reasoned: “so… this is the living-dining area” he continued, his hand gesturing at the one couch, a wall mounted TV and a desk below one of the room’s two windows. Said furniture held his old yet reliable computer, a printer, his phone charger and the wifi hub.

The floor was covered in tatami mats and there was one clock on the main wall.

The small kitchenette (which he didn’t really use; the cupboard space was useful for the take-out boxes, cups, napkins and cleaning-products, though) lined the back wall that similarly hosted three doors.

One led to the small yet functional bathroom; heh, he hoped the kid hadn’t been expecting a bath.

The other two, of course, covered the bedrooms.

“Forget what I said before” Dabi murmured as he looked around; “you’re not a saint… you’re a _monk_ ” he chuckled.

“Yeah, well, don’t get coming to me for blessings or anything” he snorted back; “now, so long as there’s no structural damage, you can do whatever you want to your room, you know, if you decide to stay” he furthered (because the kid needed to know that he had an out; he wouldn’t be surprised if he’d been caged in by his parents, or something).

Then, without preamble, he opened the door to the spare room; luckily, Yoshida-san had let him keep what bits of furniture had been in the apartment and, since he’d never throw anything useful away (because that would be irrational), there was plenty of bedding, the futons had been wrapped up in plastic and, after a quick wash, everything was serviceable.

There’s even been six, virtually bran-new pillows, for God’s sake.

“Huh” the teen blinked as he followed him inside; “it’s… bigger than I’d thought” he admitted softly.

Humming in agreement (both of the bedrooms were of a good size by most realistic standards), Shouta looked around the white (he’d painted the whole place in that colour; he’d had enough left after renovating and he didn’t see the point in wasting it) chamber approvingly. There was a simple shade on the main light, a built in wardrobe, the futon (with a set of bedding he’d brought in earlier that afternoon) a chest of draws and a curtained window.

“Look” he said; “I don’t know what normal people your age want” he admitted: “because at your age, I was living like this… I’ve _always_ lived like this” he stated. “So… if there’s anything you need, I’ll see what I can do and, when we get your employment contract sorted, you can spend your yen on whatever” he shrugged; “I won’t need rent money because I’ve bought this place outright…”

“You’re going to be bankrupt at this rate” the younger cut in bluntly; “and besides… I don’t really need much, either” he said: “thanks, though…”

“You’re welcome” he nodded; “I’ll let you get settled in” he added whilst heading to the door: “let me know if you need anything, okay? Oh, and if you want, the TV’s set up, so…”

Watching as the kid bowed a little in understanding, the older man walked out of the room and closed the barrier behind him.

Shit…

What was he doing?

What should he say?

Shaking his head, he padded towards his own room and entered it; he’d leave his door open, just in case.

If Dabi needed him, he could be there quickly…

If Dabi was putting on a front and was looking to wreck the place, steal his stuff or try to attack him (because people were irrational and he was probably (definitely) ridiculously stupid to open up his home to a strange boy so quickly), then he’d be able to react quicker and erase that dangerous quirk before too much damage could be done.

He had _no_ doubt that he wouldn’t be able to subdue the boy without hurting him if he needed to.

That decided, he set his alarm clock, sat on his futon, opened his laptop and started to make the necessary changes to the policies and paperwork of his business.

He’d not been planning on hiring anyone, really, _but_ he was glad that he’d already started to investigate what he’d need to do before now.

Only time would tell if he needed to action anything…

~*~

Touya didn’t know when or how he’d fallen asleep (God, he’d _missed_ having a bed and _damn_ , after a quick wash in the bathroom, the toothbrush in his clothing bag now resting near Aizawa’s on their shared sink, those clean sheets had smelled and felt _so_ good) but he had.

Sitting up after a yawn (Aizawa had kept his word, he’d not been touched, he’d not been hurt, the bedroom door was unlocked), he’d shuffled into the living room and looked around at the plain, simple furnishings before his nose led him to the apartment’s door.

Shit…

The not so old guy was already up?

What time was it?

Looking to the clock, his brows rising, he could hardly believe that it was 06:45.

He’d not slept this late in years…

Huffing, he returned to his room, grabbed his other set of clothes (the older man had offered him the use of the washing and drying machines he’d bought to clean his own clothes and uniforms) and returned to the bathroom.

This sure as hell beat flitting in and out of convenience store toilets to wash his aching skin and keep himself clean.

He _was_ surprised that the other man had some great shampoos and soaps, though; however, the guy was a neat freak and hair that lustrous didn’t just maintain itself, did it?

Hmm…

Then, once he was clean (heh, he’d need to get more dye soon), he threw on his clothes (he’d kept his shower quick but _God_ had he enjoyed it) and dressed, he headed down the stairs and into the kitchen.

The kitchen whose door had a note on it.

“ _Breakfast in on the back work-bench if you want it and, if you’re interested in helping out today, please put on the cap and apron_.”

Feeling his brows lift, the former Todoroki entered the room, his lungs filling with the scent of bread, tamagoyaki and cake.

Swallowing thickly, his mouth already watering, he was at the back work bench and digging into the platter of onigiri, omelette and miso-soup (that’d been kept warm under a heated lamp) before he realised what he was doing.

 _God damn_ …

It was all _delicious_ , he…

“Wahhh~! Aizawa-kun~! That’s amazing~!” 

Blinking (shit, there were already customers?), Touya carefully got up from the stool that’d been left for him (that thoughtful prick) and approached the fire-door which led to the service area, his head peaking through the circular window.

“What d’you say, Katsuki?”

“Wow~! It’s totally awesome~! Thanks~!” 

Looking at a relatively tall woman with blonde hair red eyes (he couldn’t see the child he’d heard _but_ if genetics were anything to go by, then she was that loud-mouthed Bakugo’s mother; tch), the flame quirk user huffed and went back to his food.

The man who’d taken him in had even put a mug of coffee out for him, hadn’t he?

Who’d have ever thought he’d receive more kindness and consideration for a complete stranger in one week than he’d ever had from his own bastard-prick of a father in his whole life time?


	6. The Fractured Friendship of Deku and Kaachan...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Warnings include: FFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEELLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS, canon typical Kaachan on Deku antagonism, ANGST, children being upset and soothed, using words instead of violence to resolve issues, BAMF Dadzawa and swearing~!**

Seeing the little imp’s smile _shouldn’t_ have pleased him so much however, despite a strong quirk, an affluent family (Mitsuki had a Prada purse with her that morning; this either meant she was stupid or could punch out any low-life who’d want to snag it) and intelligence (he’d checked the boys work last night; it’d been excellent), he seemed…

 _Sad_.

Not necessarily unhappy but, there was something there…

There was _something_ behind those explosive outbursts…

It wasn’t neglect or abuse (from what his child-minding training had taught him, anyway) and sure, his mother could be quite boisterous with him _but_ there was a mutual love and respect there, too…

Hmm…

It was something he’d keep an eye on since the boy had already said he was going to do “ _alla my stupid homework here from now on; tch! Why can’t _you_ cook that good, you take-away loving hag~?!_”

Heh…

Kids were so irrational…

“Well, we look forward to seeing you later, Aizawa-kun~ thanks again for the food~ I can hardly wait to pick up my cake this Friday~”

Waving her off (she’d bought even more items this morning; apparently the ‘ _girls at the office_ ’ had loved everything she’d allowed them to taste) and nodding as Bakugo smiled at him with a “thanks for the All Might bento, old man~! It better taste as good as it looks!” Shouta let out a sigh.

“Tch, you know that you have the right to refuse service to annoying blondes, right?”

Chuckling, his head inclining at Dabi before he turned around, the older stopped with a blink.

The teen was wearing the spare apron and the generic, white-cap he kept as a spare.

And for some, irrational reason, he felt a spark of pride prick at him.

 _Ridiculous_.

“How did you sleep?” he asked; “have you eaten?”

“Yes _dad_ ” the other retorted, his eyes rolling; “d’you want me to put out the menus and sauce bottles?”

“That’d be great” he chuckled; “and could you flip the door-sign to open as well?”

“Slave-driver” the other quipped; “next thing I know you’ll be asking me to start doing something _crazy_ like taking orders, or something”.

Laugh snorting (they’d gone over the easy to use till system the previous night and the kid was a natural; God bless the technological revolution, he supposed), Shouta went back to wiping off the service bar and priming the coffee machines and tea-station.

It was… strangely nice to have some company…

~*~

The morning rush had been… _interesting_.

People from the day before had come and either ordered extra items or dragged their colleagues along with them and Dabi, God bless his sarcastic, little heart, had gone down surprisingly well with the patrons.

Heh.

He’d not exactly ribbed him when some school-girls had clocked him in the window and made their way in, their eyes turning into love-hearts as they shyly placed their orders and fawned over both the food and him _but_ he may have commented on their cooing over.

 _Just_ a little…

“Tch, girls are stupid” the sixteen-year-old had muttered when he’d found three phone-numbers scrawled onto the napkins they’d left on the table they’d sat at, his hands screwing them up and binning them without preamble.

Hmm…

He’d have to work on the kid’s self-esteem issues, wouldn’t he?

“ _How_ did you get such a great flavour into the onigiri? Aizawa-san! I’ll take three more~!”

Bustling around, taking orders and giving the people what they wanted had also become easier with four hands as opposed to two; there was no reason why he couldn’t pop into the kitchen for more stock when Dabi was fixing the drinks and passing over the pre-packaged foods.

“Eh~! I’ve never had a lemonade like this~! What’s that minty-flavour? It’s so good~!”

The scones were gone before 08:00 (European foods seemed to do quite well in this area; he supposed people were looking for different tastes that didn’t break the bank: he’d seen the prices in Tokyo delicatessens and they’d always confused him), the fresh bread was similarly grabbed and most of his sandwiches were sold, too.

“Maa~ Aizawa-san~ four bento please~! Ah, thank you, Dabi-kun~”

Heh.

He could hardly believe that the teen had kept his name-tag on, either.

However, as 09:30 rolled around, the expected lull came since the majority of their customers were either office workers or school children.

In fact, there was just one custom still sat in a booth (a University student?), her tired eyes glaring at her laptop screen whilst feverish fingers flew over the keyboard.

She’d gotten through three cups of coffee and two cups of miso-soup, her tongue sticking out of her mouth as she worked.

Hmm…

He’d not counted on older students coming here…

“Ugh… _how_ do you keep going like that, are you a robot or something?”

Looking to his new employee, Shouta chuckled; “here” he said whilst pouring him the last of the lemonade he’d made and gesturing to his booth: “good work” he added.

“Tch, you’ll be bankrupt, I’m telling you…”

“And _you’ll_ be happier sat down with a drink” he chuckled; “or you can go on the, what did you call it? Dinosaur-console?” he grinned.

“Well, at least no ones gonna want to steal it, I guess” the younger admitted, his hands grabbing the drink as he walked towards the gaming area with its (easy to wipe down, reinforced) beanbag chairs, cheap headphones and soft, squidgy flooring. 

Heh, he was glad he’d gone to the effort of making it…

* **Ding-ding** *

Turning to the door (he’d wanted to go wipe down the tables, damn it), Shouta sighed as the two _Pro Heroes_ from Monday evening entered, their costumes _just_ as eye catching as before.

 _Wonderful_.

“Welcome to the Stray Cat Café” he greeted with his usual deadpan; “what can I get you?”

Blinking at him (he wanted to grin at their startled expressions but managed not to), the men shared a glance, their eyes looking around as they walked up to the service bar.

“Umm… we were just in the neighbourhood and wanted to check in with you… _Aizawa-san_?” the sun kissed Pro stated, those sky-blue eyes clocking his name-tag.

“So, you’re not going to buy anything?”

“O-oh, ugh, well…”

“We reserve the right _not_ to serve anyone~!”

Coughing into his hand to hide his laugh-snort, Shouta looked to where Dabi was lounging, his head shaking ruefully.

“We haven’t…” the more audaciously dressed man breathed, his jade eyes looking over bright orange shades.

“ _Especially_ annoying blondes~!” the teen called whilst flipping them the bird, his head then swivelling back to the game he was playing on the relatively big screen.

“Heh… that’s an interesting employee you have there” _Loud Cloud_ tried to laugh off whilst _Present Mic_ pouted.

“Are you ordering something or not?” he asked, his hands gesturing to the tables and (of course) crumb scattered floor; “I have better things to do than stand here” he added.

“Wow… your customer service is…”

“ _You_ aren’t a customer” he quipped; “there’s the door” he gestured, his hands grabbing the cleaning products, the service bar quickly and effectively cleaned; however, as he made to leave the area (to clean the rest of the café, the hot water tap switched on to allow its extendable hose to fill up the mop-bucket) the pair were still stood there.

“Maa… Aizawa-san, sorry” the white-haired staff-wielder called; “umm… I think we’ve got off on the wrong foot, here…” the hero (somewhere around his age) said whilst he busily added the cleaning solution, grabbed the mop and turned off the faucet. “Ano… we were hoping to speak to the owner, possibly?”

“You are” he replied, his hands grabbing the bucket’s handle and tugging it up, his body through the privacy gate and heading down to the end of the eating section (no kids had come by to do homework before school and Dabi hadn’t made a mess, either.

“W-wait… what? You own this place?” the taller, broad man baulked; “dude… that’s incredible, ugh, I mean… you’re in your early twenties, right?”

Checking in with the University student (she was fine but would love another coffee, her yen handed over before she went back to mumbling at the screen), Shouta nodded, told her it’d take a minute but then blinked when his lodger materialised before him to grab the mop; “I got this” he huffed.

“Now who’s working too hard?”

“Shut up and let me do my job already” the teen huffed before, his eyes narrowing at the Pros, a shit-eating grin spread his lips; “I shouldn’t keep you away from your _adoring_ public now, should I?” he snickered before, in a revenge-related move based off of his own mild teasing that morning, he smirked at the men. “He’s single” he told them pointedly; “but don’t get your hopes up” he added whilst the longer haired man rolled and eyes and walked away from him: “I think he’s celibate, or something~!”

“D’you want to get paid this week?”

“Sorry _dad_ ~!”

Snickering despite himself (because who cared if the stupefied heroes were watching?) Shouta walked straight past them once more, hopped the gate and went to work on fixing the plain (but exception quality; French classic had been pricey _but_ you couldn’t beat the taste and he had a great stockist, to boot) coffee.

“Hey, that smells good, doesn’t it Mic?”

‘ _Please, just fuck off already…_ ’

“Yeah, sure does… we’ll take two coffees please… ano, what’s a BLT?”

Sighing, his hands moving swiftly and efficiently to grab two more cups, he grunted; “eat in or take away?”

“Oh… ugh… we’ll sit, won’t we?”

“Heh! You bet!”

 _Marvellous_ …

“A BLT is a classic, western sandwich which contains bacon, lettuce and tomato” he answered primly; “everything is organic and I baked the rolls this morning…”

“ _Whoa_ ” the blue-eyed man gushed; “we’ll take two of those as well, please~!”

Nodding, he rang up the order, watched the debit card transactions went through and passed them a tray containing their food before whisking the student’s fourth coffee over to her.

Tch, it was time to check the bathrooms again, wasn’t it?

 _Joy_ …

~*~

The rest of the day went by relatively peacefully; the heroes stayed for half an hour, asked him about the café, _didn’t_ clock his attempts at fobbing them off, offered their Agency’s business cards (“ _just to be safe… that guy could have friends looking for payback, you know?_ ”) and then left with smiles whilst leaving… a very generous tip.

He didn’t _like_ tips or the westernised idea behind them; however, he wasn’t above such things and, if he was going to buy more stock soon, then every yen counted, didn’t it?

Then the lunch rush came and went (he’d checked his phone a few times; Shinsou-san hadn’t been in touch) however, as the end of school approached, a handful of University aged students (with the girl from earlier, her lovely blue face more relaxed as she walked in with a centipede headed man, their chatter excited) entered.

Izuku (in tears) and Katsuki (stubbornly ignoring his friend’s(?) distress) weren’t far behind them.

Hmm…

Frowning lightly, he left Dabi with the older students (he’d narrowed his eyes at the sight, too) and approached the boys carefully; Inko had hinted (but she was clearly too nice to say) that the boys had been at odds since the green-haired child’s diagnosis _but_ he’d had a feeling, when he’d watched them yesterday, that there was more to it than that.

“Hey” he greeted, his eyes watching as the blonde scowled at him and pulled out one of the seats at the repurposed dining table before clamouring on to it, his back-pack roughly shoved onto the scratch-proofed surface whilst the shorter boy sniffled, a hand swiping at his eyes; “what’s happened?”

“K-Kaachan… h-he…”

“Tch, stop being such a baby” the crimson eyed tot snapped.

“Bakugo” he said, his tone clipped; “being upset is a part of human nature” he reasoned: “insulting someone for showing their feelings is ignorant at best and cruel at worst” he warned before crouching down to give the emerald eyed child a napkin. “Now then, take a breath, relax your shoulders and try to centre your thoughts” he advised; “there’s nothing wrong with being upset _but_ I can’t help you if you can’t tell me what’s wrong, alright?”

Sucking in a lungful and releasing it shakily, the more-timid of the pair looked at his clasped hands whilst the angrier started to furiously scribble into his doodle-book.

“Kaachan s-said that I… I couldn’… be… be a hero” he murmured quietly.

“And you _can’t_ ” the other snipped hotly; “you need to shut up, get over it and—”

“Izuku” Shouta cut in, his eyes looking to Katsuki (luckily, the boy could take a hint, his mouth snapping shut); “I _think_ what Kaachan is trying to say” he offered slowly: “is that he’s worried about you getting your hopes up…”

“T-tch~! N-no, no _I am not_ , he’s j-just…”

“ _However_ , since he struggles to talk about his feelings” he continued as the hothead blushed, his hands balling into sparking fists (heh, fire-proofing everything was going to be worth the time and effort, wasn’t it?). “Instead of consoling and supporting you in a way you might expect, he’s trying to convince you to focus your energies on other career paths” he added.

“Y-you don’t… don’t know _anything_ , old man~!”

“You’ve both been friends for a very long time, haven’t you?” he continued as the crimson eyed tot re-grabbed his pencil and scribbled even hardly, his teeth gritting furiously; “I’m pretty sure that he’s just as unhappy about you not having a quirk as you are… you probably made a lot of plans to be heroes together, didn’t you?”

Nodding, his arm now covering his eyes, Izuku struggled to calm himself.

“Would you like a hug?”

Nodding more vigorously, Shouta carefully brought him into his arms and gently rubbed his back.

Tch, poor kid.

He’d had a sneaking suspicion that the little Midoriya was bottling all of his tears up for his mother’s sake too and, with his best friend being so emotionally constipated, where else could he turn? Who else could he talk to?

_Hmm…_

He hoped that Asui and Uraraka would still be coming by today for his sake; since both of the boys seemed to be at an impasse, widening their friendship groups was the only a logical step.

Mitsuki had confided in him that she’d not really _liked_ some of the other, brasher boys that Katsuki was amassing around him based on his quick, either.

“A-Aizawa-sa-n?”

Blinking, his head tilting to regard the child whilst he allowed him to pull away, the older offered: “hmm?” 

“I… I know that you… you don’t… don’t like…” he tried; “ _h-heroes_ t-the way I… I do…” he continued, his smile wobbling: “b-but… do… d’you thin-k that… that I… could b-be one?”

Carefully wiping the boy’s eyes, he gave him a true smile; “it won’t be easy” he warned: “and you might not get to be one in the traditional sense _but_ , I don’t see why you couldn’t” he stated firmly, the tot’s eyes growing wider. “You’ve got a brilliant mind and a big heart” he furthered; “who wouldn’t want a hero with those qualities, huh?”

“That’s not—!”

“ _Katsuki_ ” he cut in bluntly, a hand still resting on Izuku’s shoulder and giving it a squeeze; “with respect, not every hero, popular or otherwise, is someone who crashes around with super strength and flashy powers, are they?”

“W-well, no but…”

“No, they aren’t” he continued whilst standing, that same hand now in the child’s fluffy hair; “you are incredibly fortunate to have what most hero programmes would consider an excellent quirk” he admitted. “And, with training, patience and guidance, I have no doubt that you will become Pro that we’ll all be proud of someday” he stated, his smile returning when the other blinked, his cheeks pinking. “But that doesn’t mean that your friend can’t be, either” he reasoned; “in fact, if he keeps developing his quirk-analysis skills, trains his body and doesn’t give up, I’m willing to bet he can stand shoulder to shoulder with you” he said through a light shrug.

Then, his eyes casting down to the boy who’d grabbed onto his leg to squeeze it, Shouta veered him towards the table.

“Now, you don’t have to see eye to eye _but_ there’s no reason to be cruel…”

“Then tell ‘im to leave me alone and quit bugging me” the sullen blonde grumped, the doddle pad he used to relieve his frustrations now filled with scribbles.

“S-sorry Kaa—”

“And _stop_ apologising to me~! That’s all you ever do~! I’m _sick_ of it, I—”

“Alright” he said calmly; “Izuku? Why don’t you come and do your work in the booth near the door, okay?”

Nodding, a little hand reaching for his, he walked them past the quietly observing University students (the fresh onigiri he’d made after the lunch-rush and slices of strawberry cheesecake (so quick and easy to make and keep) intermingled with their laptops and work books) to sit the boy in Dabi’s booth. “What would you like to eat and drink?”

“A-anything’s f-fine… thank you… Aizawa-san.”

Giving that tuft of hair one more ruffle for good measure, he nodded at his employee (who was wiping down the service bar; heh, what a God send) and nipped into the kitchen to scrounge up another lemonade, a slice of cake and a sandwich with a side of carrot and cucumber batons. Once done, he dropped the order off for the child now quietly getting on with his work before making his way to Katsuki; at his approach, the boy looked away with a huff.

“What would you like to eat and drink?” he asked him, his tone no different to how he’d spoken to Izuku; he could tell that the young blonde was struggling with some inner turmoil and it wouldn’t do to add to that.

“Nothing” the younger snapped.

“Okay, I’ll ask you again later” he stated whilst turning away; “or you can…”

“Aren’t you gonna yell at me?”

 _Ahh_ , and there it was.

Slowly turning back to him, his eyes clocking little Asui and Uraraka on the approach with a blonde boy through the windows (good), Shouta walked toward him and leaned a little against the table, his voice quiet to spare the child any further embarrassment; “why would I yell at you?” he asked: “what good would that do?”

“I made the little nerd cry, didn’t I?” he huffed; “shouldn’t I be punished, or something?”

“The fact that you’ve acknowledged what you’ve done is wrong is a very positive step, Katsuki” he mused; “ano… I think you’re punishing yourself enough as it is” he told him, their eyes momentarily locking before the child muttered a curse and glared at his notebook. “Pushing other people away will only do you more harm in the long run, kid” he advised; “but, if I’m reading you right… you think that’ll make you stronger, don’t you?”

“I _am_ strong” the boy virtually hissed.

“And I’m not arguing that” he soothed; “I just think it’s a shame that you’d choose to be strong alone instead of being strong alongside the people who care about you” he admitted: “now, are you _sure_ you’re not hungry?”

“I’ll have a sandwich and a coke… please.”

Nodding, he went to get the order, a hand waving at the brunette, her (admittedly adorable; he remembered how grateful her toad-like father had been to see her smiling and accepted by the other kids) friend and the new boy as they entered with an enthusiastic “Aizawa-san~ good afternoon~!”

“Good afternoon” he returned in kind; “Izuku’s doing his work up here if you’d like to join him _or_ you can go to the study area” he offered, his grin picking when Ochaco instantly shuffled to sit beside the blushing boy (heh, that was irrationally cute), her smile wide whilst the other two filled the opposite bench.

“Neh~ Aizawa-san~ this place is _so cool_ ~ I really like cats too, you know~!” the new boy exclaimed.

“Heh, I’m glad” he returned; “and you are?”

“O-oh! Heh, sorry! I space out a lot” the kid grinned; “I’m Kaminari Denki~ nice to meet ya~!”

“Likewise, kid” he replied; “have a look at the menu and tell me what you want when you’re ready, alright?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wah~! 
> 
> I love writing these characters as chirren~!
> 
> It brings me joy~!
> 
> ^_^


	7. Friends...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Warnings include: AAAAAANNNNNNNNNNGGGGGGGGGGGGSSSSSSSSSSSTTTTTTTTTTTTT~!! FFFFFFFFFFEEEEEEEEEEEEEELLLLLLLLLLLSSSSSSSSSSS, swearing, references to sexual situations/sex work, references to upsetting living conditions/themes, difficult childhood situations, references to parental death and parents having to make tough choices.**

In one day, Dabi had learned more about what a well-adjusted, reasonable and helpful parenting style was then he had in the fourteen years he’d spent in… _that_ house…

“Maa~ this’ so good~ I wish I could fit more of it in my face~”

The café owner (his landlord and employer, no less) must have a quirk beside those devil-eyes of his…

“Eww~ Denki-kun~ close your mouth~!”

For, even though that gruff exterior never really changed, he’d decisively handled a situation (where he would have kicked the little nuisance’s ass into next week and banned him from the place besides) in a way that had one child laughing along with some new friends, and the boisterous terror calmly playing a video game.

Even the University students had been impressed…

“Eh? Ha, sorry~”

And now, as 18:00 was on the approach, the kids were fed, a few salarymen and women had exhaustedly shuffled in for cakes, drinks and thanks.

They’d even thanked _him_ and complimented him on his service.

It felt…

Strangely _good_.

Heh… and to think he’d only been rummaging for food and had nearly torched the place through annoyance and boredom.

He… was really glad that he’d stopped, listened and accepted what Aizawa had offered him.

God only knew why he _had_ though…

“Alright kids, let’s get on with your homework now.”

“Yes sir~!”

“Ooh~ Aizawa-san, can you help me with my math stuff, please? Fractions make me… dizzy~”

Snorting and rolling his eyes, the former Todoroki decided to make himself useful by cleaning off the tables, a yawn leaving him as he walked past the little study group to start wiping the back booth, his eyes momentarily looking through the window at the streets he’d been skulking around for the better part of two years.

The streets where he’d met Shinsou and some of the other women trying to make a living with so few options.

The streets where drug-dealers and thugs would try to get the better of you.

The streets where he’d very nearly had to kill just to stay alive.

He… didn’t relish the thought of ever having to go back there.

“Ahh~ I’d never thought of it that way~ you’re so smart Aizawa-san~”

Heh…

And maybe, with a little luck, he wouldn’t have to…

~*~

“Now… remember what I said and… and be a good boy now, alright?”

At six (nearly seven) Hitoshi had learned three _really_ important things…

“You… you’ll need to be a good boy, a _brave_ boy for me, okay?”

The first? His mommy loved him enough that she got hurt to make money and went missing a lot…

“He… he seems really nice and he makes cake, you like cake, don’t you?”

The second? Daddy being killed because a villain wanted his wallet was _the worst_ thing that could have ever happened to them…

“And there’ll be other children there, too, you know? You can make friends.”

The third? He was going to be spending a lot of time with some guy who ran a café while she ‘ _worked_ ’; he wasn’t really sure what she did… but it was dangerous and made her cry.

He… he really wished there was something he could do…

But, he was only six, wasn’t he?

That’s why he’d keep trying to be a good boy…

That’s why he didn’t use his quirk…

That’s why he hid if any strange people came to their apartment…

“Ahh, there it is, see?”

Blinking out of his thoughts, his tired eyes looked to the brightly lit café, his brows rising when he saw the pawprints dotting the red window frames; there _were_ kids inside.

They were smiling, laughing and… playing a card game?

“Now make sure you get something to eat with the yen I’ve given you and be sure to wait here until I come to pick you up, alright?”

“Yes mom” he replied, his lips trying to smile as she kissed his forehead and began walking in the other direction.

He… he wanted to follow her but…

 _But_ he didn’t want to cause her any further trouble and so, sucking in a breath ( _be brave, be brave, be brave_ ), he stepped his sneakered feet towards the café that fringed the small, smelly, graffiti covered place they’d been forced to live in, his hands pushing the door open with relative ease.

The inside of the place was even more cheerful than the outside and, as he stood there, he couldn’t help but look up at a black-haired teenager with pretty turquoise eyes and strange markings on his face and a taller, older man (Aizawa-san?) with a wry grin and circles, not unlike his, under those dark yet compassionate eyes…

_So cool…_

“Welcome to the Noraneko Café” the man said, his voice a low, almost soothing purr; “what can I get you?”

~*~

When Shinsou-san had text him, it was nearly 18:30; he’d told her that having her boy (“Hitoshi… his quirk is, well, just be careful when he asks you questions… I’ve told him to be good… he _is_ a good boy”) would be no problem and that he’d happily look after him until 20:00.

Knowing that she was going back out and into the evening had worried him; however, he probably wouldn’t be able to pay her the kind of money she needed…

 _This_ was probably her best option…

And that’d made him so _damned_ angry…

No one should have to do such things if they didn’t want to; hell, he wasn’t an idiot, he knew that lots of people found pleasure in sex-work and genuinely opted into such a life, but…

 _But_ , to have to _service_ others in such a way…

It made him shudder.

“Oi” Dabi murmured, his shoulder jostling his before he pointed out of the window; “she not want the job, then?”

“I guess not” he sighed softly; “but that doesn’t mean we can’t look out for that kid…”

“ _We_ , huh?” his lodger grinned; “heh… I like the sound of that… just don’t expect me to know what to say to him or any of the little snots, alright?”

“We’ll make an elementary school teacher of you, yet” he returned fondly, the pair of them leaning on the service bar as the iris-haired boy entered, his little face peering up at them curiously as he greeted him.

“Umm” the child said, his eyes looking at menu over their heads whilst the children behind the boy had quieted and looked at him, their game of Uno (heh, it’d been a present one of his care-centre compatriots had given him; for a western, none electronic game, it’d gone down very well) paused; “I… I only have a… a thousand yen” he replied quietly.

“Well, I figure that’ll get you a drink, four onigiri of your choice (Kimiko had told him what they preferred to eat as a family; it was why he’d added it to the menu) and a slice of cheese-cake” he mused whilst looking at the teenager; “d’you think he’d get some yakisoba for that, too?”

“Heh, why not?” younger man shrugged, his eyes rolling; “bankruptcy… I’ll calling it now” he said to the room at large before scooting his way towards the kitchen with a long-suffering sigh.

“Umm…”

“Heh, don’t sweat it kid” the man grinned as he rounded the service area and approached him, his right arm then gesturing to the other children peering at them owlishly; “you’re Shinsou Hitoshi, right?”

“Y-yes sir” he nodded, a little unsure.

“Nice to meet you, Hitoshi-kun” he returned; “I’m Aizawa Shouta and these are some of my best customers” he granted, the tots preening under the praise: “Urakaka Ochaco, Asui Tusyu, Midoriya Izuku and Kaminari Denki” he introduced. “And, down there playing on video games is Bakugo Katsuki” he furthered; “I’ll introduce you later, alright?”

“Um… thank you” the boy nodded before, with a blink, Denki was stood right in front of him, his smile wide and little body _definitely_ in the other child’s personal space.

“I love your hair, man~” he grinned; “maa~ Tsu-chan, could you squidge over, neh~”

“Mm~ I’ll go sit next to Midoriya-chan” the long-tongued girl grinned whilst the brunette and forest-haired tot dutifully shuffled over (heh, poor Izuku couldn’t stop blushing from the looks of things); “Shinsou-chan will need the extra room for his food, kero~”

Then, just like that, the tired (haunted actually; God, the poor thing) boy was drawn into the game, the conversation and happily sharing his mobile phone number with the other kids before offering to share out some of his (“ _wow… that’s good_ ”) dinner.

Heh.

It was almost perfect; however, as he turned to look past the few, different University students (who’d loudly praised him for the wifi and begged him to start a loyalty scheme, of all things) to where Katsuki was sat alone (he’d seen the boy look over as the Uno game reached fever-pitch), he allowed himself a little sigh.

He was going to have a long way to go with that one, wasn’t he?

~*~

When closing time came, the kids were collected, the fees paid and Shinsou Kimiko had nearly cried when Hitoshi excitedly told her all about his afternoon and that he’d been offered the chance to join the self-defence class on Sunday.

All in all; it’d been a great day.

He’d also trained Dabi on the till and started him off on a few, online health and safety courses which he’d (begrudgingly) done…

“100%?”

And passed with flying colours.

“Tch, clever shit” he huffed when he’d finished his shower, his eyes staring bewildered at the scores.

“Heh, maybe you should make me a manager” the younger had smirked; “I want a company car, a pay rise and… hmm, fifty-four vacation days” he mused as he lounged in the love-worn computer chair that accompanied the similarly old desk like he owned the place.

“Uh-huh” he deadpanned; “that does raise the issue of your employment contract though, doesn’t it? We’ll need to discuss what hours you want to work and I’ll have to go over taxes with you, won’t I?” he asked, a towel running over his mostly dry hair as he scratched at his muscle-corded stomach under the oversized, white t-shirt he slept in (alongside a pair of black sweat-pants).

“You can’t fire me without one, can you?”

“I can’t _pay_ you without one, either” he snorted as he leaned against the desk so they could observe each other; “however, since you don’t want to tell me your name… we’re going to have to be a little… _creative_ ” he shrugged.

“Oh… I hadn’t thought of that” the teen replied, his brows furrowing.

“Hey, don’t worry about it” he said; “you clearly have a good reason for keeping your past to yourself” he added when turquoise eyes returned to his: “and it’s not for me to pry either” he stated. “If you’d committed any serious crimes, you would have been caught long before now thanks to that quirk-detection department the cops have” he furthered. “So, as far as I’m concerned? You’re someone who needed a break, just like I told you before” he told him; “and, the offer of talking still stands _but_ that’s completely up to you, alright?”

Swallowing thickly and nodding, Dabi sighed; “thanks” he replied quietly: “it’s… been a long while since I had anywhere to rest and… just be, you know?”

“Heh… yeah, I know” Shouta murmured; “I nearly cried when I had an _actual_ bedroom to myself when I was your age” he added, his eyes closing at the memory: “after having four kids all crowding around me for whatever reason and being forced to share futons because the care-centre manager was a bitch and one of the boys kept wetting the bed, well” he huffed. “Let’s just say that I appreciate what is to be… somewhere else” he grinned whilst nodding around the living; “as basic as it is… it’s mine… and yours for as long as you want it” he said through a stretch and yawn.

“You turning in?”

“It’s not very, tch, what were the kids saying earlier? ‘ _Plus Ultra_ ’ of me, is it?” he snickered; “but I haven’t been for a morning run since we opened and I don’t want to break the habit” he mused: “that… and I don’t tend to sleep well… or often” he sighed. “Never have, probably never will… so best that I try to get some now” he hummed; “but don’t let that stop you, you know, from doing anything” he blinked: “if you have friends you want to meet or bring back here to hang out, or whatever, then…”

“ _Friends_?” the younger snorted; “yeah… right” he grunted with an eye roll: “I’ll hit the hay too, I guess” he stated whilst getting up. “S’been a while since I got to sleep on a futon so I’m gonna go and enjoy it, you know?”


	8. The Symbol of Peace...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Warnings include: attempted sexual assault, BAMF Aizawa, angst, hero-worship, worry, concern and swearing.**

Waking up at quarter to five (tch, fifteen minutes before his alarm, but it didn’t really matter), Shouta sighed as he sat up, grabbed his hairbrush and threw his locks into a bun on instinct.

What Dabi had said last night still rang in his ears and sure, he _personally_ didn’t understand or _want_ friends himself, but…

Wasn’t that what most people his age _should_ have?

Hmm…

Then, getting up, he did his five-minute kata (which was mostly stretching but a damned good way to start the day), grabbed his note pad and left a quick letter for the teen that he shoved under his bedroom door.

From the snoring he could here, the kid was still out cold.

Then he returned to his room, threw on his running outfit (black shorts, black t-shirt, ancient yet serviceable sneakers, his cellphone cradled in a bicep-guard) and headed out for his run.

At first he’d thought about heading down to the beach (it was only twenty minutes or so away and he hadn’t been there for a few years) _but_ , thinking rationally, he still had food to assemble and he needed to call a few stockists, too.

He was also expecting a delivery and it wouldn’t do to miss it.

Therefore, with a reserved sigh, his hands locking the café door behind him (he’d told his snoozing lodger where the spare key was if there was an emergency or he just wanted to go out), he decided to lap the old, grey buildings that dwarfed his little establishment for a while.

Strangely, even a place as dull as the apartment complexes looming overhead (with the few, ratty-trees and odd scatterings of mostly dead flower-bed; hmm… that was something he could fix, wasn’t it?) could appear _almost_ nice in this early morning light.

What _wasn’t_ so nice, however, was the group of drunken thugs he could see after ten minutes of circling the complex, their staggering forms _clearly_ having stumbled out of some sleezy bar not that long ago and, instead of heading towards the open lobby of one of the towers, they’d stopped to ogle him.

“H-holy shit~ who-o the fu-ck is that?”

He could smell the cheap booze and cigarette ash from twenty feet away.

“I-I don know but… damn… he kind’a fine-e, ain’t e?”

 _Wonderful_ …

“E-eh there, cutie~!” one of the taller, broader, _drunker_ (heh, how very flattering) men called; “n-nice legs~ woo~ yeah~ work that… that ass~” he furthered, his four arms waving at him.

Tch…

“H-hey now~ what’s your hurry, hmm?”

Blinking, one of the five men materialising before him (well, that was annoying), Shouta flung himself into a backflip to avoid being grabbed, his move earning him a drunk chuckle and a cheer from the other four as they approached.

“Umm… _flexible_ ” the creep (tall, green-skinned and leering; a forked tongue slithered from his scaly lips as he spoke) crooned; “boy… you must be tired cus you’ve been running through _my mind_ all mornin’~” he grinned.

“Flattered as I am” he deadpanned; “I don’t want any trouble” he added, his eyes checking the movements of the other men (one was literally hog-headed (with four arms, too?), another had bull-features (with hooved feet and a tail) whilst the last three (triplets?) looked similar to the two-quirked dick-head blocking his way).

 _Goody_ …

“Trouble-e?” the man (in a cheap, three-piece suit that was creased and stained, the tie knot loose about his dishevelled collar); “baby, we’re the, *hic*, M-menagerie Gang~” he grinned: “you’ll have no… _no_ trouble if you come partying-g with us~” he offered with a jaunty waggle of scaled brows.

“No thanks” he stated; “now, if you’ll excuse me…”

“ _Gotcha~_ … whoa—”

Rolling his eyes (he didn’t need his quirk to deal with them), Shouta flung the bastard who’d tried to grab him from behind into the smooth talker in front of him and, before they’d crashed into the ground, swept the legs out from under the other three.

As they crashed, oooofff’d and landed onto each other in a kind of drunken puppy-pile, the café owner sighed, placed his right foot atop them to stop their bewildered forms from dizzily scurrying away and called the cops.

Attempted assault and public drunkenness should put them away for at least a year or two, shouldn’t it?

~*~

Ten minutes later, the sound of a distant siren pricking his ears (hmm… the cops seemed to be upping their game a bit; _good_ ), the martial artist had been preparing to run through his statement, his eyes searching for CCTV cameras to back up his story when…

* _SWOOOSH~!_ *

“EVERYTHING IS ALRIGHT BECAUSE I— oh?”

Blinking up from his phone, his brows lifting, Shouta had to tilt his head up _quite_ a way as, with all the choreography of someone who’d probably intended it, All Might stood just a foot or two away from the groaning, wheezing and whining drunkards he’d collected, the sun haloing around him.

Huh…

“Good citizen~!” the blonde boomed, a jaunty salute firing off from his temple; “I see that you have already apprehended the ne’er-do-wells~! Aahahahaaa~! My-my~! They seem to be in quite the state now, don’t they?”

“Yes” he replied slowly (damn, the guy was tall); “so… can I go now?” he asked incredulously, his shoulders offering a shrug: “I was just out for a run” he mused.

“O-oh ugh, well, I… the police will…”

“But _you’re_ here now” he returned, a clear play on the blonde’s favourite catch-phrase; “and there’s a CCTV tower just over there that the police can access” he stated whilst waving it it.

“Ahh, yes, but…”

“Do you need to see my credentials?” he asked with a shrug, the fingers of left hand plucking a copy of his licenses (because you never could be too careful, these days; some police officers he’d med could be… a little overzealous) from his phone’s bicep cradle along with a business card. “I’m a fully licensed martial arts instructor and child-minder, so I have authorisation to use my quirk in the public-interest” he offered whilst handing the papers to the bewildered looking _Symbol of Peace_ ; “my contact details are there if the police do need to speak with me, alright?”

“Ugh…”

Peering up at the man (he’d clearly read the papers), the massive finger and thumb of his right hand were pinching the Noraneko Café card as he regarded it, Shouta snagged his photocopies (because printer ink was expensive), re-settled them and stretched a little. “Well, thanks” he offered because, well, that’s what you were supposed to do; “have a good day” he added out of habit (he’d practised it several times in the mirror over the years; it was something that his former employers _always_ told him to work on) before side-stepping him and resuming his run.

Tch.

He’d been out for five minutes longer than he would have liked.

 _Shit_.

He’d have to sprint the rest of the way back…

~*~

As 05:40 approached, he’d showered, dressed in his uniform, tied up his hair and ordered a few things off eBay.co.jp (God bless America) whilst sending a few emails to his suppliers for more fruit, flour, rice and noodles; hmm, a sale on vanilla-bean-paste? 

Tch, it’d be illogical not to at that price with such a great sell-by date.

Hmm…

Then he’d sneaked around the apartment (Dabi was still snoring; the poor kid clearly needed the rest), shoved another note under the door and padded downstairs to throw his pre-made, pre-proved dough (once shaped) into the ovens, pull the cakes he’d made yesterday out and swiftly creamed, glazed, filled and decorated them.

Once done, another batch of scones (very popular, cheap to make and quick to bake) hit a separate oven, the tamagoyaki was cooking, the three industrial rice-cookers were steaming and he’d added more coffee beans to the fantastic, Italian drinks machine he’d been gifted by one of his former employers.

Heh, he probably had time to make himself a cup and it’d be irrational _not_ to eat something now, wouldn’t it?

Humming to himself (a self-soothing habit he’d been unable to break), Shouta scooped some of the medium-grain rice that was ready up and into a few onigiri (with premium pickled ginger, salmon-slithers and sesame seeds for additional crunch and flavour; he didn’t bother with any nori; the customers could have it), ate them and started up the percolator.

And there in lay his _first_ mistake of the day…

* **Knock-knock-knock** *

Turning away from the machine that was going to caffeinate him, the eatery owner was prepared to see the Bakugo pair stood there (Katsuki and the rest of the children had all wanted All Might Bento, their parents having promised to swing by and get them that morning; they were all made bar the tamagoyaki (which was cooling); however…

The person waving at him through the wide, door window was none other than the Symbol of Peace himself.

The _same_ Symbol of Peace who _clearly_ couldn’t read the God damned opening times.

Sighing (the man might have tracked him down for a reason concerning the paralytically drunken idiots he’d floor; it was self-defence, he could prove it), Shouta rounded the service-bar, checked the wall clock (06:07; he opened at _07:00_ , damn it) and unlocked the door. “Can I help you?” he asked flatly.

“Ahh, well you see… your business card is so cute and, well, I had wanted to make sure that you had gotten here alright and… umm? What _smells_ so good?”

He should have just turned around and gone back into the kitchen, shouldn’t it?

Sucking in a breath to calm his ire, he reluctantly stood to the side; “if you want anything to eat or drink, we’re not open yet _but_ I can get you something that’s almost ready.”

Baulking, blinking, then looking at his (fancy, no doubt filled with all kinds of technological wizardry) wrist watch, the towering blonde (who’d have to enter his café by side-stepping; hmm, should he get the door widened?) rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly; “umm… sorry” he tried. “Perhaps I could… come back later?”

“Tch, not unless you want to be mugged by my morning rush hour” he shrugged; “so, what can I get you?” he asked whilst walking away, his body slipping back around his station, the till humming to life as he woke it. “I have scones, onigiri, muffins, miso and the tamagoyaki should be ready by now” he listed; “tea? Coffee? Homemade cordial-spiked lemonade?” he added whilst pointing at the blackboard where everything had been painted in chalked paint. “Have a think and I’ll be back” he continued whilst re-entering the kitchen.

As he thought, the omelettes had finished cooking, the bento he’d lined up were stood ready and the muffins (blueberry, strawberry and banana) had just finished baking, too.

Whipping them out of the oven (hmm, they smelt great) he whisked them back into service area to cool (as the scent would entice the customers, especially now that the coffee was ready to pour); idly, he wondered if he’d have time to draw cute, silly faces on them (he had novelty, edible bunny ears somewhere) _but_ lamented that they’d need time to cool.

Heh…

It was something he could try another day…

“Ano… Aizawa-san? Did… have _**you** made those_?”

“Well, the muffin fairly wasn’t going to show up, so I figured I may as well” he snorted; “they’re too hot to eat right now” he warned over his shoulder when the hulking man (God bless his tall ceilings) crept towards them, that famous smile of his spreading wider. “Sit down over there and tell me what I can get you” he added; “well?”

“Oh-h… umm, one of those lemonades sounds delightful, ugh… with mint, if you have it?”

“Of course I have” he replied, his brow cocked (he’d not even opened yet so _how_ could he have run out? God, he hated illogical questions); “and food?”

“Ahh… a portion of salmon onigiri and, when they’re cool, of course… could I have two of each, please?”

Ugh…

It was a good job he’d made more muffin mix, wasn’t it?

“Sure” he stated; “I’ll go get your onigiri” he told him before, his glare narrowing: “don’t touch them before I get back, got it?”

“Ah—hahaa~ yes, yes I won’t, I promise~!”

Nodding, he somehow managed _not_ to roll his eyes before returning to the kitchen.

Wasn’t this supposed to be Pro-sparse area?

~*~

When 06:30 arrived (tch, Mitsuki and her son would probably be coming by soon; heh, he’d be sure to watch the CCTV later when the kid’s mind exploded: he was almost as fanatical about All Might as Izuku was), the hulking blonde (who’d had to sit at one of the tables; he couldn’t squeeze in a booth) had had five glasses of lemonade, ten onigiri and six muffins.

Well, it was another 3000 yen in the till, wasn’t it?

“Aizawa-san~” the powerhouse had all but cried; “are you certain I couldn’t hire you for a private function~?”

“Then who would run my café?” he sighed (God, what an irrational proposition); “I have to prepare everything fresh the night before or in the morning and the only day I’m closed is Sunday…”

“Ahh~ then…”

“And _Sunday_ is the day I’ll be taking as a break whilst running self-defence classes on the store front” he kept going whilst the hero enjoyed the last of his muffins (he’d capped him buying anymore, his other customers deserved some, too); “honestly, you’re a wealthy man, aren’t you? Why not send out for…”

“But _these_ are the best muffins I’ve _ever_ had~” the other veritably yelled (shit, Dabi wouldn’t be pleased; he’d told the teen the night before that he didn’t need to come down until 07:00 unless he wanted to); “and I lived in America for three years~! They _made_ these things~”

“They’re British, actually” he quipped after another mouthful of coffee; damn, that was good.

How anyone could sully such a dark, tangy-bitter taste with sugar and lactose he truly didn’t know…

“Ah… I… I see” the other sighed dejectedly, his massive shoulders slumping.

Chuffing (shit; was this how it felt to kick a puppy? Hell, All Might moped _just like_ Izuku did, too… hmm…), Shouta checked the work-schedule he kept on the service bar and looked over his hours; “if you like, I can bake you a dozen or two on Sunday morning” he heard himself say. “My first self-defence class is at 10:00… so you could come by and pick them up at 08:00, if you like? Would that be… _whoa_ ~!”

Yelping, the updraft of the other’s movements _nearly_ dislodging his cap, the café owner scowled up at the lummox staring at him as though he’d just solved world hunger.

“Oohhh~ Aizawa-sama~ I’d be _so_ grateful, truly~!”

“Instead of being grateful, you could try not to make a mess in my café” he replied whilst looking around to check that the other’s speed hadn’t disturbed anything important.

“Ahh~ sorry, sorry~” All Might stated, his hands raising in surrender; “I only wished to give you my thanks…”

“Your yen will do just fine” he returned; “now, if you don’t want to get mobbed, I suggest…”

***Ding-ding~!!***

“Slow down you damned brat~!!”

“ ** _Oh. My. God~!!_** ”

“Good morning, Katsuki” he said, his eyes looking to the little bell (that probably wouldn’t survive the week, at this rate) dispassionately before slanting his gaze from the star-struck child, to the (dear God) _posing_ hero and then to the stupefied elder Bakugo, her mouth hanging open.

“A-A-A-All Might~o~!” the boy gasped reverently.

“Hello there, Katsuki-shonen~!” the bronzed warrior greeted, his white tank-top covered chest puffing proudly; “how does this pleasant morning find you, hmm? Ahh~ and is this your _older sister_ ~?!”

Rolling his eyes (and finding the power _not_ to face-palm from somewhere), Shouta could feel his skin crawling as Mitsuki squealed and her child demanded that she “ _shut up, Ma~! You’re embarrassing me~!_ ”

“I’ll go get your bento” he murmured whilst the three continued to animatedly talk about… whatever…

“What the fuck is _he_ doing here?”

Blinking, his eyes locked on Dabi’s bewildered face, the longer haired man shook his head as the teen shuffled away from the door; “it’s been… a morning” he admitted through a huff: “have you eaten?”

“No, no, no, _no_ ” the flame quirk user whispered harshly; “ _why_ is he here?”

“I was attacked this morning…”

“You were _what~?!_ ” the sixteen-year-old baulked, his hands grabbing at him and turning him around.

“Hey, whoa, easy” he laughed; “I took care of them… they didn’t touch me, alright?” he soothed, his smile warm as he carefully clasped the slightly shorter male’s shoulders: “not that I don’t appreciate the concern” he furthered when the other huffed and pulled away. “But, since I floored them all, they needed to be picked up and he answered the call… even though I rang the police” he shrugged, his eyes looking back into the café through the circular viewing window: “if I didn’t stop him, he was going to eat everything in sight” he grumped. “You okay?”

“Just… just not a fan, is all” the other replied sullenly.

Nodding, he led the teen to the back-bench where his breakfast was set up; “he’ll be fucking off soon” he told him: “just enjoy your breakfast… oh, and some packages came for you” he said whilst thumbing at the back wall where two parcels were stacked atop some of the bigger boxes of stock he’d ordered.

“Huh?”

“Eat first” he stated before walking to the glass-fronted chiller, his hands grabbing all of the bento (because he may as well) and making his way back into the (blessedly) quieter café where the three where still yucking it up; Katsuki was sat on the man’s curled bicep whilst Mitsuki took photographs on her phone.

But _why_ though?

“Bakugo-san? What would you like this morning?”

“Maa~ Aizawa-san~ you didn’t tell me that you were friends with All Might~”

Giving the woman what he hoped wasn’t a completely withering look ( _why_ would she ever think such a ridiculous thing?), Shouta managed a “we’re not” before placing her child’s bento on the counter and ringing it up.

“Aahahaaa~ why, I met our dear café owner for the first time just this very morning~” the blonde grinned before, with a blink, he narrowed his eyes at the traditional lunch-box, his brows lifting; “neh, Aizawa-san~ I didn’t see bento on the menu~”

“They’re…”

“They’re _special_ ” the six-year-old cut in excitedly, his tiny hands rummaging around for a pen; “sir~! Would you sign mine, please?”

Wow…

So, the kid did have settings _other_ than grumpy, sullen and rude.

Heh, good to know…

“Sign it?” the hero said and _that’s_ when Shouta realised his second big mistake of the day.

Fuck…

If the Pro saw his likeness inside the innocuous, black paw-printed box then he was _screwed_ …

“Let’s not—”

“Ahh~ but of course, my boy~”

_Double fuck~!_

“Hmm, you won’t mind me having a peak first, neh?”

_**Triple fuck~!** _

“Oh… oh my~!” the behemoth gasped, the neon blue of his eyes flashing.

Shit; he _knew_ he shouldn’t have made one for Izuku: he couldn’t afford to be sued by anyone, let along a guy with one of the best legal teams in the country…

“This is… _amazing~!_ ”

Blinking, the internal calculations he’d been running in the back of his mind (bankruptcy would be a _mercy_ ) throwing up one red flag after another, Shouta nearly baulked when the blonde man was suddenly _in his face_ ; “you make these, too?!”

“They’re… something the children like” he said carefully; “ano… you’re not going to sue me for using your likeness, are you?”

“What~?!” the other chortled; “heavens no~!” he furthered before carefully reclosing the lid: “are they all the same?”

“No~!” Katsuki _helpfully_ supplied (tch, thanks kid); “Aizawa-san makes a different one for all of us~!” he preened before, with the biggest smile he’d _ever_ seen on the boy’s face he said: “but _mine_ is always the best~!”

Snorting (but not bothering to correct him; the boy wouldn’t like being shown-up in front of his idol), the eatery owner brought the others up for the man to view; “if you’re going to sign his then please sign the others” he asked with a little bow: “this’ll probably make their month… or something.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had NO IDEA I'd love writing Shouta "kind of" adopting Dabi but...
> 
> I do~!
> 
> Also, Dadzawa in shorts? How could anyone resist, really~!?
> 
> XD


	9. What a Week...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Warnings include: angst, swearing, reflections on past non-sexual child abuse, Endeavour's A+ Parenting, parenting styles and ffffffffeeeeeeeeeeeeeelllllllllssssssss~!!**

Cautiously sneaking a glance into the café, his nerves still frayed, Dabi dared to look at the man the _bastard_ who’d sired him had wanted…

 _No_ …

No, he didn’t want to think of _that man_ …

He was free now and, when he was stronger, when he was _more able_ , he’d expose that prick for who he really was…

He could only hope that his siblings could wait that long…

Tch, at least his mother was no longer under the dickhead’s thumb…

Not that he’d been able to find out _why_ she no longer lived in… _that house_ …

Screwing his eyes shut and turning away, he quickly washed and dried his dishes before walking towards the parcels his landlord had shown him; he’d not ordered anything (he had no money) and no one knew that he’d decided to live here, either, so…

Grabbing the first one, he opened it with a blink; there was a phone in it: sure, it wasn’t fancy or flashy _but_ it was new, it worked and had been prepaid.

Heh…

That big-hearted, soon to be bankrupt idiot…

Rolling his eyes (no one had ever bought him anything before, not really), Touya then opened the other box, his brows lifting to his hairline.

Clothes…

Clothes that he’d been absentmindedly looking at on Aizawa’s computer; all in the sizes he’d been browsing, too.

Shit, he’d not meant to imply or suggest that…

“They alright?”

Turning around to look at the café owner, his jaw a little slack, the scarred teen baulked; “you… this is, I mean, I didn’t want…”

“Look Dabi” the other cut in mildly, his hands having a good wash as he regarded him over his shoulder; “this isn’t charity _but_ I don’t want anything in exchange, either” he stated: “as my employee, I am responsible for ensuring that you’ve got everything you need to do your job, if you want to think about it that way” he grinned. “I was going to bring up the matter later _however_ , you’d already done the leg-work for me…”

“This is _too much_ ” he breathed quietly; “you don’t even _know_ me…”

“I know enough” the older man shrugged nonchalantly; “all I want is to give you something that I wish someone had given me when I had nothing” he told him, a teacloth now drying his fingers: “nothing more, nothing less” he furthered before, with a relieved sigh. “He’s finally gone now, by the way.”

“Tch… you’re just a magnet for trouble, aren’t you?”

“Heh, so it seems” he returned; “go on and take those upstairs and set up your phone” he ordered: “the morning rush shouldn’t be on us for… oh, another five minutes, or so…” he chuckled. “And don’t forget your cap and apron, okay?”

“Heh… you got it boss…”

~*~

The rest of the week marched on in, blessedly, more predictable and logical patterns.

The kids had squealed at their bento (Izuku, almost too overwhelmed to speak, had just grabbed onto his leg and sobbed; he’d had to hug Inko as well: if Dabi had taken photos of the whole thing he’d been too befuddled to notice but, from his snickering, he was _certain_ he had… the little shit), customers came and went and everything was good…

Everything was great…

Sure, Shinsou-san was still… going about her business (they’d kept Hitoshi until 21:00 on Thursday; he’d fallen asleep in his arms as he’d sat with him in one of the booths and read to him) _but_ he was slowly getting more information about the pimps and human trafficking-rings of the area from her.

He’d fed what information he could glean to the police and tried to get the two Pros who’d dragged her former _John_ away involved, too.

So far, as doubtful as he’d been, Loud Cloud, Present Mic and Midnight (who he’d had to insist on closing her coat when a few of his salarymen customers had had _nose-bleeds_ in his spotless café; _God_ ) had started coming around, the R-Rated hero had even whipped one particular pimp publicly when he’d gone to grab her.

_Heh._

Needless to say, she and her friends had gone up in his estimation since then.

It’d felt good to see small changes taking root so soon and, before he knew it, Sunday was upon him; Sir Knighteye, of all people, had come by for the muffins with a polite bow, thanks and a _ridiculous_ sum of yen (“ _for the inconvenience, if nothing else, Aizawa-san… my two sidekicks similarly offer their thanks and regards_ ”). Then, after rolling out the astro-turf (health and safety first), Dabi helped him to set up a marquee (it was a nice day, sure, but no one was going to get sun-stroke on his watch) and he’d greeted the gaggle of children he’d amassed.

However, there was also a new face in the crowd.

“Umm” the boy had started (no one had walked him there… hmm); “can… can I join? I have money~!” he said whilst waving some notes at him.

“Jeez kid” his employee had quipped whilst taking the right amount and then giving the rest back and gesturing that he hide it; “don’t get flashing cash around here, alright?”

“Wah~ sorry~!” he’d gasped, a shy flash of jagged teeth giving them a smile as he blushed with embarrassment.

“Don’t worry about it” he’d told him with a grin; “my name is Aizawa Shouta” he greeted: “this is Dabi and you’re more than welcome to join us” he stated: “however, I need you to read and agree to a few things first, alright? Do you have a guardian with you?”

“Oh… ugh… my mom’s at work but… but you can call her, she said it was fine for me to come~” the ebony haired boy stumbled before, his smile dimming; “I… I don’t read so good, though…”

“I see” the café owner murmured; “well, in that case…”

“Oh please, oh please let me join~!” the kid cut in; “I’ll work _super_ hard and be good and…”

“Hey, hey, hey” he chuckled whilst kneeling down to regard that almost tearful gaze; “I was only going to say that I’ll read it with you when we get your mom on the call, okay? You can also come here to study on weekdays too, if you like” he stated, the child’s demeanour instantly brightening: “but first, what’s your name?”

“Oh… Kirishima Eijiro, sir!”

Sharing a look and a grin with Dabi, he brought the kid into the marquee and asked for his parent’s number before introducing him to the other tots who were dutifully stretching as he’d shown them.

“Mushi-mushi?”

“Hello, Kirishima-san?” he said; “this is Aizawa Shouta from the Noraneko Café” he furthered whilst, of all people the dark-haired child could gravitate towards, it was Bakugo Katsuki who was locked in his cross-hairs, that jagged smile returning full force as he cooed over the blonde’s spikey locks and serious face.

Heh.

From the gruff, little smile that the crimson eyed boy gave him back ( _clearly_ preening), he had a sneaking suspicion that he’d just found the missing piece to the relationship problems between Izuku and his former best friend.

 _Hmm_ …

~*~

Watching as his employer ran through some simple movements with the patience of a saint coupled with the firmness of someone who would _not_ tolerate anyone not getting along or laughing at someone who stumbled (without violence, without put downs, without cruelty) had been…

“Yes, that’s it… don’t forget to extend your leg for balance, good… ahh, careful Tsuyu… here, let me tie your hair back so you can see…”

 _Inspiring_.

As he’d sat in the shade of the marquee (the sun wasn’t exactly _friendly_ with his damaged skin), a glass of lemonade nearly drank (he’d have to go back inside to get their snacks and drinks soon) and carefully observed the man as he artfully tied the frog-girl’s long, silky hair into a cute pony-tail the other kids had marvelled at…

“Okay, back to starting positions…”

“Neh, Aizawa-san~! When do we get to practise punching people~?”

“Wah~ that’s such a manly attitude~!”

“You’ll not be throwing punches until your balance is better and we’ve run through blocking” the café owner had quipped, his eyes narrowing at the more annoying (tch, enthusiastic, the older man had called them) pair at the front (who, despite wanting to advance quickly _were_ dutifully following the kata) of the marquee. 

“Aww, man… what’s the point in doing this then?” the blonde huffed.

“There’s an art to such things” Shouta reminded as he stood before the explosive youth; “you want to be the best, don’t you? Well, that’s going to take time, effort and practise” he added: “do you think All Might just woke up one day and punched all of his special-moves the way he does?”

“Tch, probably…”

“Maa~ no, no he didn’t~” Izuku called, his little body starting to move more confidently (so confidently that he was helping Ochaco to centre her balance); “in an interview he gave three years ago to TV-Tokyo, All Might-o ran through his training strategies” he said, his tongue flicking from his mouth as he concentrated. “He gets up at 05:00 every morning and hits his specially made gym for four hours to improve his strength and technique… well, when he’s not out on patrol” he grinned, his smile not dimming even as Katsuki scowled at him. “Kaachan… I… I think if… if you work just as hard, with a quirk like yours, you’ll be just a strong~ maa~ maybe even _stronger_ than him since All Might-o didn’t start training properly until he was older…”

“ _Deku_ , I’ve told you to—"

“Nah~! All Might doesn’t have Aizawa Sensei teachin’ ‘im either~!” the little brunette agreed enthusiastically (heh, she’d _clearly_ seen where the not-conversation could have gone); “I already feel much cooler, don’t you~!”

Watching as the café owner chuckled, he had them moving to their rest positions and stretching again.

God…

This was _so_ different to the training he’d received…

There were times when _Endeavour_ had punched him so hard he’d been sick, passed out or had broken bones…

He remembered, his teeth gritting, that he’d been _grateful_ at the time…

Because at least his father noticed him…

At least his father saw potential in him…

At least he’d been given opportunities…

He similarly remembered Fuyumi, her eyes tearing, _begging_ to try, _begging_ to prove that she could be useful, that she could be a hero, too…

Endeavour had slammed the training-room door closed and locked it…

He’d ignored her as she’d cried against the barrier for a good ten minutes…

“Okay, now watch carefully, how you plant your feet and centre yourself can make all the difference in a fight if you’re forced to defend yourself against a bigger, heavier opponent, alright?”

Watching Aizawa gently encourage Denki (who was struggling to get his balance), congratulate Hitoshi (who was starting to smile more often, his little face determined) and make sure that Katsuki curved his snips at Izuku (the banter between him and Eijiro was admittedly hilarious), he felt…

“Whoa~! I’m doing it, I’m doing it~!”

 _Hopeful_.

Maybe the crazy bastard’s plan of helping this community _wasn’t_ so crazy, after all…

“Hey, hey, hey~! Looking good, kiddos~!”

Rolling his eyes, the relative calm and quiet of the morning now broken as the two clowns (who kept showing up; tch, had they taken him seriously when he’d offered his employer up for their consideration? God, he hoped not) floated towards them on a _fucking_ cloud.

And, just like that, the carefully orchestrated lesson was disrupted.

Oohhh…

His landlord looked a little pissed-off…

“Wah~! It’s Loud Cloud _and_ Present Mic~!”

Heh, this could be fun…


	10. There Were Worse Beginnings...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Warnings include: angst, swearing, BAMF Aizawa, canon-typical violence and ffffffeeeeeeeeeeelllllllllllssssssss~!**

Their Sunday morning had been pretty quiet and, not that they were complaining, per say, but…

“Ugh… I’m _so_ bored…”

“Hizashi” he chuckled, his form leisurely gliding beside him as they aimlessly wandered around their patrol route; “come on, man, we’re meant to stay alert…”

“For _what_?” the blonde muttered dejectedly, his hands picking up a can from the road and flinging it into a nearby, virtually over flowing trash-can; “even our Agency usually sees _some_ action” he sighed: “and it’s not as though I’m _ungrateful_ for the respite” he mused. “It’s just… what good are we doing by, what did His Purple Highness call it? _Being seen in the hood_?”

“Well” Oboro replied with a grin; “we could always go visit our favourite, grumpy-cat, couldn’t we?”

“Heh~! Now you’re talking~!” the emerald eyed man snickered; “let’s go~!”

Laughing together, the white-haired man offered his hand and pulled the slightly lither man onto his nimbus and flew them up above the residential district and towards the older part of the area they protected, their smiles wide as they waved at a few people watching them from windows (because being positive was important) and ventured nearer their destination.

“Huh?” the voice quirk user blinked; “oh yeah, he teaches self-defence or something, doesn’t he?”

“Sure looks like it… wow… ugh… is it just me or is he _hotter_ than usual?”

“You’re despicable, man” Hizashi chuckled whilst mildly punching the other’s suede jacketed shoulder; “but… you’re right… _damn_ , who’d have thought he was hiding a body like _that_ under those baggy clothes?”

Humming thoughtfully, the sun kissed brawler sneaked another glance at the gruff (yet incredibly helpful, thoughtful and talented) man; he was wearing relatively loose, charcoal sweatpants _but_ , stretched over his (admittedly fantastic) top half was a black tank-top which showed off and defined every muscle _just right_.

His creamy, muscle slaked arms were totally bare and his long locks now hung from a high-ponytail, his artful bangs glossy and free.

“Hey, hey, hey~! Looking good, kiddos~!”

Smiling at his best friend, Oboro dispersed his cloud as they made their approach on the wider than average walk-way whilst the children cheered and ran towards them; the café owner and his teenage protégé, however, didn’t look too pleased by their intrusion.

 _Ahh_ …

“Maa~ Aizawa-san~ nice to see you~!” the slightly shorter blonde continued obliviously.

“Mic” he tried, a few red flags waving in the back of his mind at the glower the teacher was sending their way; oh man, not good; “ _Mic_ …”

“Hey, yeah~! Who wants an autograph~?!”

“ _I_ think they’d prefer a demonstration.”

Owlishly looking from the now smirking teen, his unusual hand swirling the drink he held with subtle rotations of his wrist to the raven-haired, bare-footed instructor (his face had now grown a progressively more interested smirk), Oboro felt like he was watching a car-crash in slow motion…

“ _Eh?_ ” his friend blinked up from where he’d been happily fussing over the children cloistered around their legs; “demonstration?” he repeated before looking to the muscle-corded café owner: “maa~ come on now~ as a Pro I’m supposed to _protect_ citizens, not attack them…”

“You think you can beat me?”

Feeling more red flags starting to wave in the back of his mind (alongside an excited voice chanting: fight, fight, fight!) at the narrowing of Aizawa’s gaze, he went to stop his friend from saying anything stupid…

“Ahh, well! I am a fully licensed hero, you know and… ugh, no disrespect, _cook-san_ , but I don’t think it’d be a fair-fight, sorry~!”

… a second too late.

“Cook-san?”

Ooohhhh… was there a darkening aura roiling around the eatery owner?

“ _Mic~_ ” he tried, his hands raising in surrender as the kids _oohhhed_ in a way only children on the play-ground before a scuffle broke out could; “I think you should apologise…”

“I think he should put his money where his mouth is” the other café worker chuckled, his eyes alight with challenge; “come on, _hero_ , these little guys want to see what their sensei can do” he pushed: “it’s only right that you help to inspire young hearts and minds, isn’t it?”

Sighing (because the kids were now literally buzzing with excitement and, if he was honest, he was pretty pumped to see the match himself), Oboro sniggered a little; “I don’t think you’re going to get out of this one, bro~!” he giggled, the children now pooling around him and calling their agreement.

Shit, the blonde and black haired boys seemed _extra_ pumped.

“Oh, well, okay” Hizashi shrugged whilst shucking off his jacket; “no quirks, though” he said whilst wagging a gloved finger.

“Aizawa-sensei won’t need his quirk to kick _your_ skinny ass~!” the crimson eyed child declared amidst a roar of cheers, the tots now animatedly jumping around in glee.

Looking at that dark gaze and confident expression worn by the teacher before turning to the voice quirk user who was mockingly stood like a boxer and throwing punches, Oboro was more inclined to believe that the elementary students were right…

~*~

Pulling the astro-turf away from the marquee and onto the wide square which ran alongside his café and towards the apartment complexes, Shouta had allowed the kids to grab chairs (along with snacks which the blue-eyed hero had begged a few of; tch, whatever, they needed to be eaten) and sit ‘ _ring-side_ ’. Then, after a few stretches (not that he personally needed it _but_ he wanted his students to see the benefit of them), he rolled his neck and took a deep breath.

“Let’s set some ground rules” he mused; “are you okay with best of three bouts or whomever draws first blood wins?”

“Umm… isn’t that, ugh, a little harsh?” the blonde baulked through a forced laugh; “I thought this was going to be, you know, a demonstration…”

“Do villains give you such quarter when you’re fighting them?” he huffed; “these children, for the majority, are considering your profession” he furthered: “as young as they are, they should be under no illusions about the nature of these things, wouldn’t you agree?”

“W-well yeah, but…”

“No buts” he shrugged; “this is your last chance to back out…”

“Hahaa~ shouldn’t that be _my_ line?” Present Mic tried to laugh, his hands (God, you could get dizzy if you looked too long at all of his wild, illogical gesticulations) waving around; “they don’t just _hand out_ Pro Hero Licenses at UA, you know~!”

“UA, huh?” he asked, his tone bored (whilst many of the children gasped in awe); “that’s the school which rewards people with flashy quirks and kicks other applicants into _General Studies_ , isn’t it?” he mused with a shrug, his words quieting the students. “Shouldn’t hero licenses be given to people through merit _and_ their quirks?”

“Y-yeah well~! That’s what the school is for, you know, to bring out the best in—”

“The people deemed worthy to fill just forty seats a year” he cut in, his eyes rolling; “so, are we doing this or is your plan to bore me into submitting?”

“Ooohhh~! Fine, okay, let’s rumba _cook-san_ ~!”

Snorting, he began to circle the other, his eyes taking in his stature.

 _Present Mic_ was an inch or two taller, roughly the same weight, not quite as muscular; yes, from the looks of things this was a hero whom relied on his voice to blast his opponents away, clear debris and whatnot: from how he was throwing his punches, he may have _some training_ but, not enough.

He’d left himself wide open in several places…

He was favouring his right shoulder (an injury?)…

And the boots he wore were made for stomping, _not_ kicking.

Heh…

“Okay, enough of this dancing around, let’s— _wwhhoooooffffff~!!_ ”

Allowing the egoistic hero (who’d _clearly_ underestimated him; which he understood: he wasn’t a hero, he’d dedicated himself to his craft for other reasons) to rush him, Shouta easily side-stepped him at the last minute and ploughed his right hook into the other’s diaphragm.

“ _Wwwwwwwwwhhhhhhhoooooooooooooaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa~!!_ ”

Then, seizing his advantage, he slammed a round-house kick (not quite as hard) around the side of the blonde’s head, launching him a few feet away before he crashed into the floor.

“ _Holy crow~!_ ”

“That was amazing~!”

“Dude~! Did you see that~!”

“Aizawa-sensei! You’re incredible~!”

“H-holy shit~!”

Watching as the hero rasped into the floor, Shouta rolled his shoulders; “do you yield?”

“L-like hell I… I do” he wheezed whilst getting up; “t-thought we s-said no… no quirks~!” he accused.

“He didn’t use his” Dabi called, his shit eating grin turning to a scowl; “are you trying to say he cheated? That’s not very _Plus Ultra_ of you, is it?” he huffed from where he sat, Hitoshi and Katsuki glaring from either side of him.

Staggering to his feet with a huff, the jade eyed man held his glasses out for a bewildered cloud quirk user to take, his hand waving him off when the broader man went to talk to him; “I… I’m not meaning to insult you” he tried, his smile returning. “I… I’m surprised, is all” he stated whilst dusting himself off; “an’ I’ve never seen you use your quirk so… _ahh…_ ”

Arms folded, his eyes blazing blood-red, he watched dispassionately as the Pro grabbed at his throat, his eyebrows reaching for that ridiculous hairstyle; “this is my quirk” he stated, his ponytail straining against the force of it: “now, shall we continue?”

Swallowing thickly, his face becoming decidedly more serious (for all the good it’d do him; this was _why_ he’d looked down on such _hero schools_ : reliance on your power and your power alone wasn’t only illogical _but_ arrogant) he allowed the other to come at him again.

Dodging his wide-swung, clumsy movements was easy; another mistake that most _brawlers_ made was that overpowering your opponent was the quickest and best way to win.

This, he knew, was short-sighted at best and deadly at worst.

“Hold still, you— _wah~!_ ”

Tripping him up with a well-placed kick to the ankle had been child’s play thanks to the other’s momentum and, like a sack of flailing potatoes, down he went; hmm, it was a shame, really, he might have potential (he looked strong, a punch would _definitely_ hurt if it connected) _but_ a lesson in humility was probably better for him at this point.

“Ding-ding-ding~!” Ochaco called delightedly; “Aizawa sensei wins~!”

~*~

Waving all of the children accept Hitoshi and Denki goodbye (the blonde had asked if he could stay and play video games with his new ‘ _super cool best bud~!_ ’; his parents had confirmed it was okay and the iris haired boy had been delighted: how could he say no?), Shouta allowed Loud Cloud to help Dabi take down the marquee whilst he saw to Present Mic.

Sat in the café, an ice-pack on his sprained ankle (he’d admitted that he was hamming it up for the free cake and had genuinely praised his skills and thanked him for ‘ _helping his wrongfully prejudiced ass off of the floor where it belonged_ ’) was the younger of the two heroes, his voice loudly cheering the boys as their avatars faced off a dragon.

It’d been great to see the kids so enthusiastic, better still, Katsuki hadn’t commented on Izuku eagerly asking the cloud quirk users very insightful questions and had, instead, allowed Eijiro to preen around him as they talked about their own powers and the kind of hero they wanted to be whilst walking home together.

Similarly, Tsuyu and Ochaco were helping to bring the best out in each other and the green haired boy who was becoming progressively happier and more hopeful about his future; they were all going back to his apartment where Inko was going to treat them to a movie marathon and treats after training so hard.

“We’ve packed everything away, Aizawa-san.”

Inclining his head at the sun-kissed man, he waved him next to where his team-mate was sat and gave him a bowl of yakisoba as he passed whilst offering the same to Dabi who took it with a pout; “bankruptcy” he muttered before: “oi kids, you need to watch out for the ogre in that cave over there… he’ll take all of your gems if you’re not careful.”

All in all, there were worse beginnings, weren’t there?


	11. Nothing Special?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Warnings include: a smidge of angst, reflections on what it means to be a celebrity-hero, reflections on what it means to be successful, worries/concerns/self-esteem issues, handsy Midnight (bless her), attempted humour and fffffffeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeellllllllllsssssss~!!**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aww~!
> 
> Thank you SO MUCH for your support, everyone~! It means a lot~!
> 
> Here's a little more "canon-divergence"; Sir Nighteye hasn't looked into Yagi’s future yet/they haven’t had their friendship ending bust-up so they still work together BUT Mirai also has his own Agency: did anyone spot Bubble Girl and Centipeder in previous chapters?
> 
> XD
> 
> I'm hoping to update again today, if not, tomorrow~!
> 
> ; 3

Making lunch for the boys (and their heroic guests) had seen then enjoy some story sharing, laughter and (quite frankly) _terrible_ jokes all linked into the Pro Hero community; if they _honestly_ expected him to believe that they’d _successfully_ pranked Cementoss into _actually_ shitting a brick then they were delirious.

Then, the food eaten and 14:00 on the horizon, the heroes left (they’d assured him that they’d take Denki home) and, not too long after, a more refreshed looking Shinsou Kimiko (he’d been able to rest peacefully all morning knowing that her son was in safe hands) had come by for Hitoshi.

They’d both walked back to the apartment smiling, a pawprint decorated cake box proudly and carefully held in the child’s hands.

Watching them go, the café owner felt himself smile before returning to his prep-work (well, what could be done the say before, anyway; he had excellent chillers and freezers, sure but, as one of his older employers used to say: “ _fresh is best_ ”) and doing a final spot-check around the cleaned eating area.

Once done, he’d returned to his apartment, fired up the desk-top computer and completed some essential admin before deciding to check on www.noranekomusutafu.jp. 

Looking over the rudimentary website he’d crafted to boost interest in his establishment and the self-defence classes (it was a free web-domain; he didn’t need anything _too_ flashy thanks to word of mouth) and blinking, bewilderedly, he could hardly believe that there was several, 5* reviews.

He’d felt, as he read each one, a little overwhelmed.

‘ _It’s still too early to get your hopes up, Aizawa_ ’ he cautioned himself for, if his business classes had taught him _anything_ , it was that some enterprises could be what one of his teachers had called ‘ _flashes in the pan_ ’; sure, people liked his food and he had six adults (including Inko) coming for the adult class at 17:00, but…

If a Starbucks opened down the road or nearby gyms clocked on to his efforts and offered discounted prices with _actual_ facilities (he’d had to stress that he couldn’t offer showers and he didn’t have a _smoothie_ bar like many fitness-centres did), then, well?

People were fickle.

You couldn’t count on a solid customer base these days and hell, it wasn’t like he was providing something that people _couldn’t_ get elsewhere.

Tch, trying to make a _community_ in a world where most people didn’t know what that meant anymore _surely_ couldn’t be this easy, could it?

It was too soon to tell…

He _shouldn’t_ allow current, public opinion to bolster his confidence when it came to the wider goal he’d set himself, either…

He _wouldn’t_ …

“Oi, what’s with the face?”

Blinking out of his thoughts, the café owner leaned back in his rickety, old computer chair (that’d seen him through so many hours of studying) and regarded his (ward? Employee? Lodger?) as the teen approached him from the bathroom now freshly showered and wearing some of his new clothes.

_Heh._

He looked so much more relaxed now, didn’t he?

At least that was something he could hold onto…

“What face?” he asked with a shrug; “I wasn’t doing something as illogical as _smiling_ , was I?”

“You looked, I don’t know, worried?” Dabi huffed whilst stepping over to join him; “what? You don’t like BubbleGurl303 writing that she’d ‘ _ask for Aizawa-san’s cheesecake for a last meal because it’s to die for?_ ’” he laugh snorted. “Or that ManyManyLegs says ‘ _I could eat Aizawa-san’s onigiri until they came out of my eyes?_ ’?” he chuffed, his eyes rolling; “man… how do people come up with such things?” he muttered whilst scrolling down, a gasp leaving him.

“A-All Might’s added a review?” he baulked; “shit… he’s even added a photo” he breathed. “God… how many muffins did you make for the guy?” he asked, his irises taking in the whole image of the Pro as he lazed next to a _fucking_ swimming-pool in nothing but board-shorts, his drink’s table crowded with cake and a little, black cat-plushie.

“Two bakers dozens worth” he said offhandedly, his brows lifting as he, too, stared at the rambunctious blonde biting into the almost completely demolished confection he held in powerful fingers whilst he lounged on a sunbed (that was similarly dotted with baked-goods); was he... winking and smiling suggestively?

Huh…

He had a big mouth and _a lot_ of teeth, didn’t he?

“Tch, we’re gonna be swamped tomorrow” the flame quirk used sighed dramatically, those turquoise eyes narrowing on him once more; “there’s that look again” he stated.

“I just find such praise… irrational” he replied mildly; “it’s only food…”

“ _Only food_?” the younger muttered incredulously; “that’s not…”

“Dabi” he chuckled; “we’ve had a great opening week, I accept and acknowledge that” he grinned when he realised that the other was brewing up a speech of some kind. “However, being a realist, I need to factor in that popularity is usually a passing phase and that good sales aren’t always guaranteed” he mused before, with a little sigh, he regarded All Might’s _ridiculous_ pose. “Plus… this isn’t the kind of attention that I want to encourage” he explained; “I didn’t open my café for people like him, as good as he apparently is… and I don’t want any of his fanatics pushing out the people I want to help, either.”

Watching as the teen settled, a quiet laugh leaving him, the younger then moved to place a hand on his shoulder.

 _Wow_ …

This was a big step…

It was the first, physical contact they’d shared…

“I don’t know who you are or where you came from, not so old guy” he breathed; “but you’re too good for a world like this” he allowed before quickly withdrawing and making his way to the couch.

“Do me a favour and don’t stare at that screen too hard, alright?” he called whilst flopping into it, his hand reaching for the remote and flicking the TV into life; “the last thing I need is _you_ realising how _actually_ amazing you are…”

~*~

Having left his ward to sleep; he’d placed a thin comforter over him since the air con had cooled the room a little too effectively; tch, not that he should be complaining: the brand-new units he’d bought were pricey so they _should_ work well. Then, after leaving him a note, Shouta had slipped into another variation of his training gear (black sweatpants and a cap-sleeved, maroon t-shirt with a white, chibi-styled cat curled over his heart because _branding_ ) and headed downstairs.

It was 16:50 and, already, the two salarymen who’d asked for instruction were standing outside in gym wear whilst looking at the marquee he’d set up fifteen minutes ago.

Midoriya Inko, bless her heart, was also making her way across the apartment complex’s courtyard in a cute, pink jogging set, a Hello-Kitty sweatband haloing her pony-tailed hair with Izuku diligently marching beside her in his own All Might shorts and matching t-shirt.

 _How_ could the bastard who’d sired such a wonderful boy and married such a sensational woman just _abandon_ them?

Tch.

If he ever met Midoriya Hisashi, they were going to have a little more than _words_.

“Ahh~ Aizawa-san~ good evening and thanks, so much, for this.”

Returning the short bow the two men offered him, he _shouldn’t_ have been too surprised to see Midnight, Loud Cloud and Present Mic making their way to join them.

Really?

 _Really_?

“Maa~ Shou-chan, you’re looking decidedly yummy in that get-up~!” the R-Rated hero (her costume a little more… reasonable with the addition of a white, form-fitting under-suit that did _nothing_ to disguise her… _assets_ ) called out excitedly, her pinked tongue snapping out to lick her lips.

He _knew_ that an adult class was going to be a mistake…

“What’re you doing here?” he asked whilst Izuku, who was now attached to his leg like the irrationally adorable koala he was, gazed up at them with starry-eyes.

“Why, we’re here for your expert tuition, sensei~!” Loud Cloud replied, his tone sheepish, his hands clapped together like he was praying whilst his blonde associate nodded vigorously at his side; “this morning’s ugh… _demonstration_ was a bit of an eye opener, you know?”

“I see” he stated, his had absentmindedly ruffling the forest locks beneath his fingers; “well, if you’re here to learn then get in the marquee” he shrugged: “no chit-chat, no _witty_ insights and _no leering_ ” he added, his right hand’s index finger pointing at each in turn.

“Now then, we’ll begin every class in the same way, so I want you all to try your best to memorise these stretches and their sequence” he stated before gesturing Izuku to stay at his side; “Midoriya-kun can assist you if you’re struggling…”

~*~

When 18:00 came and went getting _squashed_ in a hug containing Inko and the heroes _hadn’t_ been on his agenda.

“I feel so _freaking-pumped~!_ ” the voice quirk user admitted loudly; “man oh man~ I can hardly _wait_ to use that little number on the next bad guy who tries to get the jump on me, oh yyeeaaahhhh~!”

“Hora~! Hora~! It’s pretty empowering, neh~!” Midnight had similarly cooed, her hands trying to cop a feel of him before he easily slipped away; “wah~ Shou-chan~ you’re so mean~” she pouted as he distanced himself with a huff.

Were Pros _allowed_ to be so handsy?

Hmm…

“Honestly, I just can’t believe how much sense it all makes” Loud Cloud admitted; “I’ve never had a trainer whose been so straightforward and helpful before” he added, his smile genuine: “are we alright to keep coming by?”

“You’re a paying customer just like anyone else” he shrugged; “but, if more of the locals start coming by, I might have to put on other sessions to accommodate you” he mused thoughtfully: “which is doable so long as your patrol rotations marry up with the times I can offer” he added mildly.

“Hah~! Yatta~!” the female hero clapped giddily; “well then, speaking of patrols, we better roll out” she said before blowing him a kiss: “see you later, Shou-chan~”

Feeling his eyes twitch a little (so _illogical_ ), the café owner simply bowed before offering similar goodbyes to the salarymen (a little out of puff _but_ elated) and the Midoriya pair, his eyes locking with the tearful woman, his concern flaring.

“Inko-san, are you…”

“I just” she tried whilst shaking her head and wiping her eyes whilst Izuku played around on a nimbus that the taller of the Pros had ferried him around on, his little arms waving goodbye to them excitedly as he was brought back to the ground; “I haven’t seen him _so_ happy is such a long time” she murmured. “And you… you asking him to assist you was… was…”

“He’s a wonderful young man” he gently interrupted; “and very talented besides” he furthered: “he’s a credit to you…”

“O-oh” she wobbly smiled; “t-thank you, Shouta-san” she bowed: “I… I thank my lucky stars, every day, that you’ve come into our lives, truly” she added before, a true smile stealing her features. “Ahh, but it’s getting late and we all have early starts tomorrow, don’t we?” she tried to chuckle; “Izu-chan, come say goodnight to Aizawa-san and then let’s have dinner, alright?”

“Alright mama~!” the freckled tot called, his arms octopussing about his leg once more; “good night, sir~!” he beamed: “and thank you~!”

~*~

Yagi Toshinori wasn’t a man who tended to be surprised by anything, these days; at the age of fifteen, he’d been approached by a woman (who he’d come to love and think of as a mother) with a beaming smile and unimaginable power who’d taken his quirkless form and developed him into what many people called “The Symbol of Peace”.

He’d battled evils both ancient and modern…

He’d saved countless lives and made many more enemies, besides…

He’d achieved a status and wealth that’d surpassed his wildest dreams…

Which’d meant that he was further able to help thousands of people not just through heroism _but_ acts of charity, fundraising and goodwill…

All in all, though at times the path he’d walked had been difficult, he’d made his mark, he maintained his smile and, as he gazed at the lowering crime-figures, watched society become more stable and prosperous on a whole, he was sure that his beloved homeland was all the better for it.

However, with his efforts came media-attention, fame and what Mirai often referred to as ‘ _sneaky, low-life opportunists_ ’. Heh, his dear friend and former side-kick (he ran his own Agency now _but_ they still worked together often) had insisted, when he’d heard about his ‘ _muffin order? Is your personal chef in need of replacing?_ ’ that _he_ be the one to collect it.

The green-haired man’s golden eyes had narrowed at him for ‘ _doing such a brash and illogical_ ’ thing because, hadn’t he learned by now?

That café owner had probably seen him as a cash-cow…

He’d probably told everyone he knew that All Might would be coming to his eatery at 08:00…

He surely would have contacted the local media as well because who _wouldn’t_ drum up as much attention to their newly opened establishment by having the Number 1 Pro photographed picking up an order of food?

 _However_ …

To their shared astonishment, when Mirai had pulled up and parked in the road a few feet away from the Noraneko, aside from a few locals milling around, no one was there.

The café, for all intents and purposes, appeared to be closed; yet, as he’d cautiously approached, he’d looked into the (he’d admitted it was ‘ _just as charming as my two proteges told me it would be_ ’ which was high-praise from his usually stoic partner) place and seen the owner diligently packing up the order into paw-printed cake boxes. 

There’d been no fan-fare, no demand for photographs for promotional purposes and, Aizawa-san (‘ _he tried to refuse what I felt the products and his additional time was worth; he genuinely didn’t seem to care about who I was and gave me a lemonade for the road… it was, very refreshing_ ’) had been just as amenable as he’d described.

If a little… _gruff_.

After listening to his friend’s report, the pair of them had enjoyed one of the confections together (they were _just_ as glorious as he called; the depth of flavour, the moist texture, the balance of sweetness) and then he’d contemplated the mysterious young man he’d met.

The same mysterious young man who’d thought nothing of _almost_ being sexually assaulted by what the police had told him were “ _a gang of wannabe Yakuza who we’ve been trying to connect to a string of robberies, public disturbances and threatening behaviour _but_ … the locals tend to stay quiet for fear of reprisals, so we’ve been unable to arrest them until now_.”

The _same_ mysterious young man who’d officiously and efficiently subdued the low-level fiends, had had the wherewithal to approach the matter considerately and within the law and supplied them with ample evidence that would be admissible in court.

And who’d not been impressed in the _slightest_ when he’d appeared…

How rare…

How strange…

How incredibly delightful~!

He’d almost forgotten, really, what it felt like to be treated as an ordinary person…

It’d felt, regardless of the other’s brashness, remarkably good…

 _Yes_ …

He had a sneaking suspicion that he _might_ be shifting his patrol route a little further to the east, a little closer to the area where so much low-level criminality seemed to be thriving…

And where, it just so happened, a certain café was offering such enticing things to tempt him with…


	12. Progression...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Warnings include: angst, self-esteem issues, reflections on difficult childhoods/lives, loneliness, swearing and FFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEELLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS~!**
> 
> Oohhh...
> 
> This is some heart-tugging stuff in here, folks~!
> 
> Thank you for riding this crazy rollercoaster with me~!
> 
> We have a three week time-skip ahoy~!

Three weeks into his business venture had seen Dabi’s optimism rewarded, their time richly spent and his suppliers, stockists and fruiterer _very_ happy thanks to his repeat orders of ingredients and swift, efficient payments…

_Heh._

At this rate he’d need a bigger café, wouldn’t he?

And, although salarymen and women were proving to be his biggest client base (several had signed up for the adult classes on Sundays; they’d run from 17:00 – 18:00 and 18:15 – 19:15) _but_ , even though many didn’t always stay to study, there were more and more children frequenting the place alongside a growing number University students, too.

This crowd, as it turned out, mainly came by in the evenings which’d meant, of course, that he’d had to shift his closing time up to 22:00; this, upon reflection, was easy enough to do.

He’d just never thought that he’d need to, let alone so quickly.

However, in exchange for prolonging his hours, he decided to test the waters when it came to broadening the little community he was fostering by approaching the eight or so people (his age and younger) to see if they could offer things that he couldn’t.

As it turned out, they’d all _jumped_ at the chance to tutor some of the more disadvantaged kids (the middle-schoolers panicking about high-school entrance exams, in particular); apparently this kind of opportunity, in an accredited environment, was hard to come by and similarly _great_ for their Resumes. 

Furthermore, the young man and woman (from the lesser Musutafu Univserity; MU Tech) were similarly getting to know and chat with the working adults who slumped into his booths with grateful sighs and, although tired, goodwill and open minds. Watching their interactions, he’d decided to set up a “Connections and Contacts” cork-board next to the herb-strewn service window where people could “post” what they needed help with or what help they could offer. 

After checking requests over (he never placed contact numbers on the board; everyone had to go through him so he could ensure that parents were aware of students seeking support and that those adults would always meet the youth in his café), he’d set up meetings and oversee their interactions.

So far, he’d had a tired Manager grab his hand and thank him (three of the Economy Undergraduates had accepted work-experience placements in her floundering company; their youthful vigour had been a God send) and a tearful student (with his parents) had given him thanks with a gift-basket after the Post-Graduate had been hired by one of his regulars. 

The poor guy, just a few months younger than himself, had wracked up a nasty student-loan debt and was running out of options. Then, as it turned out, him posting the web-addresses to the sites he’d made on the large, fairy-light bordered corkboard with a sample of his coding had won him a job (high-paying, from what he could understand through those happy-tears and garbled explanations) after a relatively quick, online interview with the fish-featured salaryman (Mizuki-san) at the bank-branch he managed.

Both the employer and employee couldn’t have been happier, but...

He’d really not known what to say when the family, overjoyed and grateful, had approached him…

 _He_ hadn’t actually done anything…

Yet, he couldn’t refuse the basket full of cat-based treats and was now quite happily sipping coffee from his Pusheen-mug; it was irrational to place emotional value on such things, but he couldn’t help the warmth that’d pooled in his chest at the gesture.

A gesture that Dabi had told him was very much warranted; heh, his employee had even _demanded_ that he wear the Hello-Kitty bobble in his bun, to boot.

And speaking of his _Café Manager_ ; “oi, not so old guy, you eaten yet?”

Blinking out of his thoughts (it was a pretty standard Wednesday, by all account and, right on cue, the small posse of children who came to his establishment after school were diligently marching towards the door; Hitoshi was beaming, Izuku giggling and Katsuki _wasn’t_ yelling; huh…) Shouta regarded Dabi as the teen narrowed a look at him.

A look that warned him that his lodger would _shove_ food at him if he didn’t stop and take a break.

Heh…

Such a good kid.

A kid who still, despite the influx of customers around his age (the pretty girls, and a handful of boys, from the nearby middle-school hadn’t given up their pursuit of him, just yet) he’d yet to make any friends or actually _talk_ to anyone beside himself, the tots and a few regulars in passing.

It was probably harder at this age (he really wouldn’t know; he’d never bothered trying and, to his knowledge, no one had tried to gain his attention outside of what he could do for them, or assistance before a test or advice on one topic or another: the boys he’d helped to raise at the care-centre didn’t count because they were family), wasn’t it?

That, and for all of his outward confidence, sarcastic barbs and defiant attitude, he knew there was a lot of hurt hiding there.

Finding someone of the same age who could relate to him was going to be…

“I’ve just finished off the last of the Takoyaki, so I’m good, thanks… do you need or want anything? It’s time for your break now, isn’t it?”

“Tch, you’re always giving me breaks Shou… when are _you_ going to take one?”

 _Difficult_ …

For, regardless of the pain he could see lurking behind that bluster, there was no hiding the boy’s wonderful heart and his desire to be of use.

A desire to be of use that he was carefully monitoring; he wanted Dabi to value himself for who he was, _not_ what he could do.

Hell, for this past three weeks he’d caught the other constantly looking for things to do, his expression a little more pensive every time.

The kind of pensive which suggested that the teen thought he might be kicked out, rejected or sent away if he _didn’t_ pull his weight.

Trying to find ways to reassure him that he wasn’t welcome to the room he’d been given (the strange yet comfortable living arrangement they’d cobbled together) or the job he’d trained him up for _just_ because another set of hands did make the café run smoother was similarly difficult.

Hmm…

But how to raise the topic?

How to approach a talk that they _definitely_ needed to have without making the younger male uncomfortable?

Without chasing him away?

“I’ll tell you what” he said, the pair of them stood behind the service-bar whilst their few afternoon customers happily chatted or worked or simply ate and enjoyed a meal before going home or to their afternoon-shifts; “why don’t we do something this Sunday?”

“ _W-what?_ ”

“You heard me” he shrugged; “and you’re right, we’ve both been working hard” he mused: “so after the kids have their self-defence lesson, why don’t we go somewhere before the evening classes start?”

“ _Go_ … somewhere?” the other repeated before, with a deadpanned expression; “you feeling okay?”

Chuckling, and giving his shoulder a nudge, Shouta shook his head; “I’m being serious” he stated, his grin wry: “but I get it if you’re too cool to be seen going anywhere with a _not so old guy_ like me” he quipped with a little shrug.

“I…” he blinked, clearly becoming a little flustered.

“Just promise me that you’ll think about it, okay?” he hedged; “and hey, you don’t want to go anywhere? Well, that’s fine too” he assured: “now go on… you were just about to reach another level on that game I know you secretly like so much even though it’s _stupid and ancient_ ” he added before ushering him out of the service area.

“Tch, fine” the other muttered, a blush staining the few creamy-patches of skin that graced his otherwise dark-cheeks; “but if I cuss in front of the rug-rats and distract them from their homework then it’s _your_ fault, alright?”

Nodding his understanding, he then turned to the door as it chimed open, the elementary kids whirl-winding their way inside with greetings, smiles and little legs scampering their way to the study-area whilst they chirped out their usual food orders and thanks for his trouble.

Heh.

Kids…

~*~

Staring dejectedly at his TV screen, his shoulders slumped and eyes tired, Shigaraki Tomura was about to sign-out of the gaming platform, log off and roll back into bed.

Why should he be bothered to do anything else, though?

Since he’d turned fourteen, he’d seen less and less of Sensei over these past two years; tch, the only reason he knew that his _guardian_ was still around was thanks to the money flowing into his bank account every week.

Not that that mattered, really…

Not that he _wanted_ his fifteenth birthday acknowledged…

Or his sixteenth, allegedly a rite of passage, marked…

And hell, besides ordering food (on the odd occasions he was hungry) and buying DLC packs for his more expensive games he really didn’t _need_ the yen mounting up in his _trust-fund_.

He didn’t really need _anything_ within the quiet, curtain-drawn, darkened domain of this bedroom regardless of the bigger apartment just beyond the closed door that he kept locked for reasons he couldn’t name.

Kurogiri rarely bothered him (it wasn’t ‘ _his time yet_ ’ and he didn’t need to go anywhere, did he?) and, so long as he hit the gym at least once every day, practised his skill-sets, _studied_ the family business (because criminal empires and world-changing movements didn’t just materialise, did they?) and stayed out of trouble, no one cared what he did.

No one _cared_ in general.

Tch, not that he wanted attention…

Not that he _wanted_ anyone to think about him…

As scarred, ugly and wretched as he was, he didn’t need or _want_ anyone’s pity and so, with a sigh, he used his controller to pilot his way out of the old (but damn, it was a classic; they didn’t make them like this anymore) RPG when a chat-box popped up on the quest screen.

I’ll Burn_u_Bitch: “tch, so you’re the dickhead who looted Level 69s tavern? Thanks _so much_ for hording the power-crystals, you greedy prick.”

Blinking, his ivory brows reaching for his hairline, Tomura felt an _actual_ chuckle leave his chapped lips.

DeathTouch: “You’re welcome, _princess_ ” he typed back, a middle-finger emoji swiftly following.

Strangely, instead of the torrent of abuse he was anticipating, the _only other_ person he’d ever seen on this ancient server instead sent a laughing emoji.

I’ll Burn_u_Bitch: “I didn’t think anyone still played this game; what are you, 50 or something?

DeathTouch: “ask’s the lil’bitch who’s crying over having to start the next level with no ammo” he grinned; “what’re you? 12?”

I’ll Burn_u_Bitch: “12 seconds away from beating your ass and taking your loot, you bad-touch bastard.”

Blinking, a true laugh rippling up and out of him now, the decay quirk user leaned a little closer to the screen, his interest peaked. 

DeathTouch: “So… you wanna hit level 70 together? Fuck the Dungeon Master’s shit up?”

I’ll Burn_u_Bitch: “heh, sure…” the other player typed; “let’s go…”

~*~

Placing a bowl of yakisoba next to his employee (who was animatedly playing the game (some medieval-quest styled adventure that was filled with problem-solving activities and point-scoring tasks) with an _actual_ smile on his face; heh, it was good to see), Shouta then turned to the little study group.

The café was relatively clear (and it would be until 19:00 when the University students and the parents of the diligently working children came by to pick them up) and so, with a critical eye, he scanned the work they were doing.

Izuku was busily copying out English sentences; “very good… don’t forget to use an apostrophe there as this statement is saying that the ball belongs to Jenny, okay?”

Ochaco was finishing off a History project; “your presentation is excellent… ano, you’ll probably get extra credit for citing the dates, alright?”

Tsuyu was diligently revising for a test she had the next day; “that’s a wonderful mind-map… why not draw some images next to the bubbles to help you visualise the parts of the plant and what they do?”

The crimson eyed hellion, however, had already finished all of his tasks (he was exceptionally bright regardless of his snarky attitude) and, surprise-surprise, he was _actually_ overseeing Eijiro and Denki as they struggled with their math work. “That explanation was superb Katsuki, well done… can you two see the difference in those equations now?”

“Heh~! It makes more sense when Kaachan shows me~!” the raven-haired boy chuckled; “I’d rather have him yell at me then Motou-sensei~!”

“I wasn’t yelling at you, you pointy-toothed jerk… you just can’t do math as good as you can do kata, that’s all~! Now come on, quit slacking~! You can do it~!”

“Wah~ your faith in me’s got me so heckin-pumped~! I’m gonna smash this stupid algebra and be super smart, just like you man, you’ll see~!” the slightly shorter boy proclaimed whilst the electric quirk user vigorously nodded his agreement before those dark, worried eyes slanted to him, that thoughtful head inclining towards a quietly sat Hitoshi.

The kid was staring at his paper dejectedly, his pen resting on the table, his shoulders tense.

Hmm…

So _this_ was why the happier of the two blonde children had subtly (well, by his energetic standards, anyway; waving an arm at him madly when the iris haired child had slipped to the bathroom had certainly done the trick, though) called him over.

“Hey” he smiled; “are you alright?”

Shrugging, the child (who’d been looking so much happier and relaxed lately, who’d originally entered the café with a spring in his step) sniffled and then pushed the paper towards him.

“Extra Credit Assignment: Write a Report on your Parent/s and or Guardian/s Career Choices and Ambitions.

All completed essays will admit eligible students into the Honour-Roll Tokyo Field Trip, free of charge.”

Ahh…

“I didn’t know what the report would be about” the child whispered quietly; “Maru-sensei just passed it to me as I left because… because I _really_ want to go on the trip but… but it’s really expensive” he furthered, his little shoulders quivering. 

“I see” he murmured gently; shit…

This was a mine-field of a situation, wasn’t it?

The kid couldn’t very well write about his mother’s… occupation; the illegality besides, he knew that Shinsou-san was desperately trying to shield her boy from the work she had to do.

Similarly, bringing up the boy’s dead-father was sure to end badly, wasn’t it? 

Hmm…

“Well, I’d be more than happy to let you write about me and the café” he offered, his smile stretching when the child blinked at him; “as a Level 7 child-minder, I am your guardian whilst you’re here, aren’t I?” he furthered, his eyes returning to the bottom of the page where the parent/guardian had to sign it. 

If the tot agreed, then he could call his mother and verify that that was okay, couldn’t he?

“R-really?”

“Of course” he chuckled; “I’m sure that your teacher would accept me as a substitute” he furthered: “it’ll be down to you to make it sound exciting, though…”

“Tch, are you kidding?”

Blinking, he turned his face to Katsuki and (oh…) all of the other children who’d stopped what they were doing to regard him owlishly; “Aizawa-san you’re like… the coolest old person any of us know” the crimson eyed child snorted: “you own your own place _and_ kick butt” he huffed, his arms folding decidedly. “Tch, not even my old lady can say that” he added with a nod; “and she’s like… a bagillion years old, or something?”

Laughing despite himself ( _this kid_ ), Shouta shook his head as expectant eyes narrowed at him.

“Umm…”

“Oh-oh~! I want to hear all about how you got this place, Aizawa-san~!”

“Me too~!

“And me~!”

“Heh, there’s no backing out now, Shou.”

Tilting his head towards Dabi, his game concluded and grin shit-eating (‘ _traitor_ ’), the café owner sighed and looked to the rest of his eatery; most of the patrons were gone, there were only a few items to clear and the next influx of people was an hour away.

“Fine” he sighed, his hands raising in surrender; “just let me tidy up the place before I bore you with the details” he added to a chorus of cheers.

Tch.

How irrational…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SHIGI~!!
> 
> We’re coming for you, boy~!
> 
> 🥺


	13. Ambitions...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Warnings include: angst, self-esteem issues, body-image issues, swearing and *deep inhale* FFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEELLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS~!**
> 
> You guys are all so lovely; I've been genuinely blown away by the many, wonderful comments that you've very kindly given me~!
> 
> More is on the way EITHER tonight or tomorrow~!
> 
> XD
> 
> I have... such plans~!

By the time he’d wiped down the tables, checked that the quietly chatting group of elderly women who’d started coming by were alright (“ _Ooh, Aizawa-kun, we’re fine thank you~ it’s so nice to get out of the house to chew the fat like we did before we were married, isn’t girls~?_ ”) and replenished his coffee mug, Shouta had realised his mistake too late…

“Hmm? What’s with the notepads? I thought that you’d nearly finished your homework?”

For the quick, frank discussion of his start-up, ambitions and goals had turned into an **ambush** … 

“We’re helping Hitoshi-kun~” Denki supplied excitedly; “aren’t _you_ always the one telling _us_ to be thorough, Aizawa-san?” he furthered with a jaunty waggle of his eyebrows.

Tch, hoisted with his own petard, huh?

 _Wonderful_ …

“I am” he admitted, his right brow cocking when the children snickered and looked to their pages dotted with questions.

He had to do a double-take when his eyes clocked Izuku’s ledger.

There was a whole _interrogation’s worth_ of questions innocently lying across that smooth, white paper, wasn’t there?

 _Shit_ …

“But…”

“No _buts_ Shou~!” Dabi _helpfully_ cut in from where he was so cockily stood behind and between Bakugo and Kirishima, his face alight with mischief whilst he folded his arms imperiously; “Shinsou-kun needs your help, doesn’t he?”

“Yes…”

“And you’re _always_ telling us to be cooperative and work together, right?”

“Okay, okay” he chuckled, his hands raising in surrender whilst his lips quipped into a grin before he sighed, his right-hand ruffling Hitoshi’s wild, iris locks when he smiled up at him gratefully.

God…

How could he say “ _no_ ” to that face?

“ _Fine_ then” he allowed: “just make sure that you write down my answers and give them to him afterwards, alright?”

At a flurry of nods and affirmations, it looked _very much_ as though one elementary student in particular was _just_ about ready to pop…

“Oh-oh~! Me first~! _Please~!_ ” Eijiro called, his little, left-arm waving madly whilst his bright, endearing smile (that was becoming less and less self-conscious about, thank goodness) flashed at him.

“Kirishima-kun, we already agreed that you would, kero~” Tsuyu giggled fondly.

“Hmm? You’ve organised yourselves pretty well” he complimented warmly; “okay, what’s the question?”

“Hee-hee~! Okay, so~” the boy began (he was clearly thrilled that the group had decided that he could start); “when are you gonna get a _real_ cat for the café? Oh-oh~! And can _we_ help name it~?!”

_Eh?_

Blinking (because, logically, that had _nothing_ to do with the Report that the voice quirk user had to write), Shouta huffed out a laugh; “cats… require a lot of care, time and attention” he answered (because, why not? Seeing the children so fixated on a common goal with Katsuki _actually_ contributing was worth a reward in itself, wasn’t it?). “And, unfortunately, to comply with the health and safety policies I have to follow in order to stay open, well? It’s irrational to have one” he shrugged, his eyes taking in their little, crestfallen faces for the swiftest of moments before; “however…”

 _Heh_.

Watching their attention snap back to him (hell, even Dabi had looked a little dejected; huh… he’d have to do some calculations to progress his business plan’s time-line now, wouldn’t he?), he allowed the slightest of smiles to steal his features; “in the interest of Hitoshi’s Report under the category of _ambition_ , what is directly next-door to this café, hmm?”

“Ano… it was flower-shop, wasn’t it? It’s been closed for a while now… umm” the forest-haired child replied, his head cocking to the side before his eyes widened in understanding; “Ah~! Aizawa-san… do you want to buy that, too?!”

“If you decide to veer away from the hero business and into the police, I believe you’d make an excellent detective, Izuku” he praised with a grin, the other tots’ expressions ranging from curious to excited. “Ultimately, so long as this business continues to make a modest profit, I hope to purchase that florist and knock this wall through” he explained, his right arm gesturing to the toilets and their housing. “That should up the square footage enough for me to have an _actual_ cat-café” he stated with a light shrug, his gaze slanting to the children as they slowly took the information in. “Hmm… I should be able to get a licence for eight, potentially ten and I’ll need names for them, won’t I? That, and they’ll need grooming, feeding and playing with… so I can depend on all of you to help me with that, right?”

Three, two, one…

“ _Kero~!_ ”

“ _Yatta~!_ ”

“ _Oh my GOSH~!_ ”

“ _An we can visit ‘em alla time~?!_ ”

“ _I’ve **always** wanted a kitty but we can’t afford one~!_”

“ _You can count on us, Aizawa-san~!_ ”

“ _Wah~! I’m so excited I could punch something~!_ ”

Chuckling, his gaze looking to Dabi (who was looking at him with a soft, pleased expression; heh, he _knew_ the teen was a softie deep down), Shouta felt his shoulders relax; sure, it was a little fanciful _but_ he’d read numerous studies about how animal-therapy could treat all manner of mental-health issues and relieve stress.

Also, as illogical as it was…

He’d _always_ loved cats…

He’d _always_ wanted to have at least one…

He’d sat numerous feline-care courses in preparation to take on that responsibility, too…

Plus, offering such a venue was profitable (not that mattered to him; however, it would matter to the bank when he applied for the loans he’d no doubt need) and, he was certain, it would benefit the community he was building, too.

Just looking at the kids simply _dreaming_ of such a thing was enough to solidify the decision in his mind; Katsuki too, though he hadn’t said anything, was looking to one of the cat-photos on the wall (a peachy-furred, boisterous, scrappy little tom-cat that was _roaring_ at the camera; tch, the resemblance was uncanny) the smallest of smiles pulling his lips.

Getting that boy a cat to look after, to be gentle with and bonded to would do him the world of good, wouldn’t it?

“So, what do you say, Dabi?” he asked over the excitement, his question causing the others to snap their attention to the teen; “as my Manager, d’you think that you and our friends here are up for the responsibility?”

Baulking slightly, the sixteen-year-old showed that (ridiculously adorable; illogically cute) blush across his high-cheek bones, his left hand rubbing at the back of his neck sheepishly; “umm… sure?” he tried.

And then, just as he hoped, his lodger was veritably _mobbed_ by squealing, joyous children, their cries of “ _you’re the greatest, Dabi-nii~!_ ” ringing around the room whilst they hugged at his legs and told him how “ _wonderful_ ~!” he was as they promised “ _to work super hard_ ” and not “ _let you down_ ~!”

Damn…

He was going to have to ask their parents’ permission to screen shot some of the eatery’s CCTV camera footage, wasn’t he?

~*~

After they’d settled down at touch (Tsuyu and Ochaco were busily drawing ideas of what the cat-enclosures could look like; he’d promised to frame the sketch (filled with cat-towers, toys, scratching posts and all of the children with him and Dabi stood in the background, _covered_ in cats) when it was done), the questions resumed…

“How did you get into cooking?”

He’d tried to phrase his answers in a way that were mostly truthful; however, knowing what he did about many of their circumstances, their own troubles and emotional-development, he’d softened some the edges.

He knew that he’d had a… _difficult_ start in life, sure…

He knew that some of them, lovely as they were, might feel distressed on his behalf…

It was why he didn’t like to talk about himself too often; his life was _his_ burden to carry, no one else’s…

“When I was just a few years older than you, I was presented with a choice… I could either learn how to cook nice meals for myself and some other children who lived with me or not” he replied easily; “and, as I began to study how to use different kinds of utensils, implements and equipment, I found I had a knack for it” he mused. “Recipes are logical, the application of precise temperatures, timings and techniques almost always produce the desired result” he continued; “as strange as it sounds… there’s a beauty, a reliability in it” he grinned. “Plus, eating things that taste _good_ are better than things that taste _bad_ , right?”

He could tell by their shared looks, their slight frowns and considerate expressions that they wanted to know more…

That they weren’t _quite_ satisfied by the explanation, their little minds awhirl with further questions they were too shy, well-mannered or nervous to ask…

He was glad that they were all so sweet and sensible enough not to pry…

He wanted to shield them from any further sadness as much as he could, at least for now…

Childhood was fleeting and should, by all accounts, be enjoyable…

He’d not had that luxury…

Many of them hadn’t, either…

But this café would be their safe-space for as long as he could maintain it…

And he meant to maintain it for a long time…

“How come you didn’ wanna fancy restaurant? I bet you could be like… like _super_ famous with one of those~!” Denki cooed, his pen eagerly waiting to write up the answer; heh, he could always rely on that veritable beam of sunshine to brighten the mood, couldn’t he?

“A fancy restaurant would have kept me away from the people I wanted to serve” he offered mildly; “plus… to manage something so big, expensive and… what did you call it, Dabi? _Snooty_? Heh, that’s not my style” he chuckled. “I’d much rather be here with all of you then dealing with pushy-adults who complain about everything and demand to have such _irrational things_ like edible gold on everything” he furthered lightly, his tone genuine and light as he laughed.

His captive audience, too, giggled along with him before, to his surprise, it was Katsuki who stood from his chair, rounded the table and wrapped slight arms about his leg, his stern, little face looking up at him seriously; “I’m glad you didn’t open a stupid place like that” he said quietly before pulling away. “My mom’s here” he added, his back-pack slung across his shoulders; “Eiji? You coming or what?”

“O-oh, oh yeah~!” the raven-haired child grinned, his satchel snagged as they all looked to the café door where Mitsuki was _animatedly_ ranting into her cell-phone outside; “bye guys~! Good luck with your report, Toshi~” he added whilst scampering around the seated children to squeeze his other leg. “I’m real happy too, Aizawa-san~ this place is _almost_ as awesome as you are~! An’ I can’t _wait_ to meet alla cats we’re gonna have, too~! Maa~ see you tomorrow~!” he chirped before dashing after his friend, a further “bye nice grandma-ladies~” leaving his lips before he scooted outside.

Waving at them as they left, his head nodding at the oldest Bakugo as she smiled at him and waved back, Shouta felt that soothing warmth return to his chest once more.

Heh…

It was surprising, really, how much people could change in just a few weeks, wasn’t it?

~*~

“Why… why is helping people so important to you? I… I mean, you’re so kind and smart and strong” Izuku asked, a thick line clearly drawn under this question; “you… you could go out there and be, well, _anything_ … so” he tried, their eyes locking as Dabi walked past the tot, a hand ruffling his wavy-green hair as he went.

It was 19:00 and the University students were approaching with a few middle-school students (deflated after late-evening _cram_ sessions as exam season reared its ugly head) and he, without a word, was approaching the service bar to serve them.

Such a good kid…

And speaking of good kids, well? He could only hope that his truth was good enough for them…

“When I started middle school” he began; “I really wasn’t sure what I wanted to do or who I wanted to be” he continued as he slipped into the chair that Kirishima had previous occupied, the quirkless child leaning into his left side whilst Hitoshi moved into Bakugo’s seat, his writing pad _brimming_ with notes as he leaned into his right.

Not _all_ of said jottings were to do with the report, either…

 _Hmm_ …

“Then, because of my circumstances, some mean older boys decided to… _train_ with me” he hinted; “I was a lot smaller and weaker than them and, because of my circumstances, I knew that the only person I could rely on was myself” he admitted. “However… as I grew stronger, got braver and showed them that I wasn’t someone they could push around… I stood over them, looked down and saw something in their eyes that frightened me more than their punches and kicks ever could” he said. 

“They were _afraid_ of me… and the thought of that nearly made me sick” he sighed; “I’d spent so much time trying to prove them wrong and trying to prove myself that I was on the verge of becoming someone who my parents wouldn’t have recognised” he added. “Worse still… I’d almost forgotten some of the most important people to me… the younger boys who I lived with who were having similar problems that I’d over looked… who were even more scared and lonely than I was” he huffed, his right hand rubbing the back of his neck.

“That’s when I came to what some people might call an epiphany” he chuckled; “I realised that the greatest strength I could have wasn’t anything physical or related to my quirk… no, it was kindness, understanding and resilience” he stated firmly, the children hanging off of his every word.

“And so… as difficult as it was for me at first… I apologised to the older boys who’d tormented me, heh, well eventually… and then I started to think about what I could do to stop boys like that from existing in the first place” he mused. “Because… regardless of how some people may look, act or seem… no one is born bad, _no one_ just wakes up one morning and decides that the only way they’ll feel good is by making other people feel worse” he reasoned. “But, being rational, I knew that helping people to reach the same, logical conclusion I did wouldn’t be quick, easy or doable on a large scale straight away” he told them. “That’s why I started with the children who I now proudly call my little-brothers… it’s why I preach self-defence and try my best to listen and not make snap-judgements about those I meet” he breathed, his smile softening.

“And where better to listen to people than in a cute, friendly place filled with good food, nice things to drink and resources to help them, neh?”

~*~

He wasn’t sure _what_ had possessed him to agree to several more team-ups (tch, probably the same the stupid thing that’d led him to offer on the first time around) _but_ , as 21:00 rolled around ‘I’ll Burn_u_Bitch’ was back online.

He shouldn’t be glad, that was ridiculous…

He didn’t _need_ to play with someone…

He was perfectly happy by himself, thanks…

I’ll Burn_u_Bitch: “Hey”

And yet…

DeathTouch: “you finish work?”

As he snagged his wireless-keyboard for better typing, he couldn’t help the easing of his shoulders…

I’ll Burn_u_Bitch: “nah… cat-dad has forced _another_ break on me, tch… he’s a robot, I swear”

His enjoyment of their mundane conversations…

DeathTouch: “cat-dad?”

The window these words carved into a life other than his own…

I’ll Burn_u_Bitch: “yeah… he’s promised the smols a cat-café” he wrote, a cat emoji and excited face quickly following.

A life that seemed, from what the other teen (they were the same age if he wasn’t, in fact, some creeper skulking about and trying to trick him; nothing they’d said to each had led him to be believe that the other was lying and well? Since they kept meeting up, the guy probably felt the same way about him) had said, a good one…

DeathTouch: “heh… that’s too fuckin’ cute, man” he admitted; “I’ll have to come by when it’s done and laugh my ass off at you having to empty the litter-boxes” he replied, a poop emoji and laugh-crying face added for good measure.

Heh…

What would it be like to have some random stranger take you in and _actually_ look after you?

Not that he wasn’t grateful to Sensei…

Not that he disagreed with what they were planning…

Not that he didn’t _want_ to see the fake, _disgusting_ world of heroes eradicated…

I’ll Burn_u_Bitch: “why wait until later?”

 _But_ …

“Huh?” he blinked, his disbelief filling the emptiness of his room; wait…

Was he being invited over?

DeathTouch: “you tryin’ to lure me somewhere, perv?”

I’ll Burn_u_Bitch: “it’s a café, not a fetish dungeon…”

Laugh snorting, his grin swiftly returning, he shook his head whilst the mirth he’d felt died down.

DeathTouch: “my quirks fucked me over” he admitted; “I look like a horror, B-Movie reject” he added because, well? Why not? He knew he looked awful and he was miles past caring…

However, that didn’t mean that he wanted to be seen by people…

It didn’t _mean_ that he _liked_ being stared at…

And besides, Sensei wouldn’t like him wandering around and being noticed; if he lashed out and killed someone then, without Kurogiri shadowing him, he’d be fucked, wouldn’t he?

Sensei wouldn’t be _pleased_ if he had to yank him out of a prison, would he?

Tch, if he didn’t just leave him there to rot; he was to be his heir, however, he knew that the man (ancient, powerful, a true king-pin of crime) had other pawns that could step up to take his place.

He knew, theoretically, that he was expendable…

Everything was…

I’ll Burn_u_Bitch: “my face… hell, most of my body is pretty fucked, too.”

Blinking, his head cocking to the side, Tomura frowned.

I’ll Burn_u_Bitch: “cat-dad doesn’t care about such things… and neither do the customers… it’s weird, but I’ve never felt more _not-fucked_ , _un-fucked_? then when I’m here” the other typed, his grin returning: “come, don’t come, whatever” his (could he say friend? Video-game associate?) fellow quest-runner typed. 

I’ll Burn_u_Bitch: “this is the address…”

Humming thoughtfully, he fed the zip code into a search engine and felt his eyebrows rise; just as the other had said, this ‘Noraneko’ café was in a pretty shady part of town.

A shady part of town where someone who looked like him wouldn’t necessarily be noticed.

Hmm…

DeathTouch: “you working tomorrow?”

I’ll Burn_u_Bitch: “yeah… cat-dad keeps telling me to take two days off but, fuck it, you know? Got nothing better to do and the sun makes me itch…”

Heh, yeah…

He knew that pain…

DeathTouch: “when should I come by?”

I’ll Burn_u_Bitch: “depends… it’s quiet between 10:00 – 12:00 and 19:00 – 22:00” he wrote; “middle schoolers and MU students come in to work and shit… we’d have the gaming area to ourselves…”

We, huh? 

DeathTouch: “if we’re doing this… names?”

I’ll Burn_u_Bitch: “Dabi”

DeathTouch: “Tomura” he replied (because using Sensei’s name wasn’t a good idea, was it?), a little grin pricking his lips as he typed; “what kind of name is Dabi?”

I’ll Burn_u_Bitch: “the kind of name that’ll kick your ass around level 77, bitch…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> =^.^=


	14. Smarter...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Warnings include: angst, reflections of difficult life choices/situations, swearing and... you guessed it~!**
> 
> **FFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEELLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLSSSSSSSSSSSSSS~!!**

Sunday swung around with its usual gusto; however, on the eve of his first month of business, there’d been a few… changes to the usual routine.

“You want me to make one hundred muffins, ten cheese cakes and two dozen assorted fruit-pies?”

Sir Nighteye had called his personal cellphone (he _really_ didn’t want to know _why_ one of the top-rated heroes in the Country had used his considerable resources to contact him directly, so he hadn’t asked; privacy wasn’t a thing, these days: new laws to _remotely investigate_ ensured that) an hour before the kids would arrive.

“All Might is hosting a… private function at his estate in ten days’ time; he’s extended you an invitation and, despite my best efforts… he has set his heart on having your wares and has offered you the use of his extensive kitchens and staff.”

The _actual_ fuck?

“That’s an irrational request” he stated bluntly; “also, if he ever wants anything from me then tell him to ask me himself, you’re not his secretary and _I’m_ not a caterer… I’m a small business owner here for my community” he huffed. “A community which he, you and your sidekicks are more than welcome to join _but_ the buck stops there… to spend so much of my time on one person’s fanciful wants would be illogical when measured against the needs of the many, wouldn’t it?” because _really_? Hadn’t he _explicitly_ told the golden eyed man about his venture when they’d met and he’d asked those few weeks ago? 

Shit… he _knew_ that serving All Might back then would come back to bite him…

“Aizawa-san…”

Tch, and worse still, the enigmatic suit-wearer so primly addressing him now had seemed like a reasonable, _practical_ man at the time; heh, which just went to show you that first impressions could be deceiving.

It was a good job that he didn’t believe in those…

“Neither am I interested in any _function_ he’s throwing and, before you ask _no_ , this has nothing to do with money so _please_ don’t bother proffering a price” he added before, with a rueful shake of his head: “I’m sure that he’s not used to hearing ‘ _no_ ’ but that’s not my problem, either” he huffed. “Now, if you’ll excuse me? I have lessons to teach and errands to run” he stated, his tone probably a little too curt _but_ he couldn’t help the spike of anger that’d lanced through him.

Famous people who thought that they could _buy_ whatever they wanted, whenever they wanted just rubbed him up the wrong way.

And… as illogical as it was…

He’d _thought_ that All Might wasn’t that kind of man; this, upon reflection, had been stupid of him.

He mentally blamed Izuku’s effervescent love of his idol for this skew in perception…

Heh, maybe the doctors were wrong and the forest-haired child had a quirk after all, a quirk that forced the people around him to see the inherent good in all of the things he so innocently loved so much…

“Could we…”

“Good bye, Sir” he cut off, his thumb swiftly moving to end the call.

Blocking the number _probably_ wouldn’t do anything, but still, it was worth a try.

 _God_.

It was a good job he was running the class soon; he needed to blow off some steam and settle down.

With a sly grin, he was _almost_ tempted to call the three Pros who’d adopted the area so he could give another _demonstration_ ; hmm, taking a leaf out of Katsuki and Eijiro’s book of punch-related therapy probably wasn’t a good idea though, was it?

Tch, more irrationality…

Perhaps his lodger was right, he needed to take more breaks, didn’t he? 

Speaking of which, his employee was dutifully setting up the marquee and, if it wasn’t his imagination, he seemed… a little brighter, happier and more settled with every passing day. 

Better still, they’d decided to visit the local mall as an outing together; he’d talked about using some of his wages to pick up a few more games for the café which had made him irrationally proud but also a little concerned that the teen thought it was his responsibility to do such things. He’d offered to get him his own console, of course _but_ Dabi had just flicked his forehead, told him to “ _keep your yen, not so old guy and get something for you self for a change_ ” and ruffled his hair before sitting beside him on their _living-room’s_ couch, his body leaning against his as they watched morning cartoons.

Then, after a touch of pleasant, snarky banter, the teen had let it slip that he was expecting someone to stop by and play a few RPGs with him tomorrow evening.

He’d been thrilled…

His (gentle, information seeking) teasing had been countered with blushes, huffs, shoves and laughter…

And so, after promising _not_ to make a big deal “ _because you’re _always_ going overboard, you noble-hearted idiot~!_” about the whole thing, they were going to have their first, well, non-café related activity together.

It was illogical to tie any emotional-value to it, but hell…

It wouldn’t kill him to be illogical now and again, could it?

~*~

“Okay, great work today… back to your resting positions…”

The kids were _really_ starting to make progress when it came to their movements, speed and technical accuracy and, as he passed around the lemonades (the early June heat was starting to creep higher, wasn’t it?) he quietly spoke to each child in turn to give feedback and praise.

“Katsuki, thank you for wearing those quirk-dampening gloves… I know that you don’t find them comfortable, but…”

“Tch, are you kidding?” the tot snorted, his smirk sharpening cockily; “with these bad-boys on I can punch Eiji _super_ hard without worrying that I’ll set him on fire” he tittered, his glee causing Shouta to sigh, the index finger and thumb of his right hand pinching the bridge of his nose.

_This kid…_

“Hee-hee~! I think you’re getting real strong now, too, Kaachan~!” the raven-haired boy preened, his lemonade already gone with a pleased huff; “what’a’bout me, neh? I got you pretty good just now, neh~!?”

“Heh, you keep hittin’ like that and I’ll _let_ you be my sidekick if you ask me nice~!”

_God…_

“Ha~! Really~?! That’d be _so_ cool~! Me and you’ll make a pretty awesome team, won’t we~?!” he grinned before, much to the café owner’s shock, the sharp-toothed child pointed at Izuku (who was stretching with Hitoshi and Denki, the three animatedly chatting about a new manga they were following). “An’ Deku can be like our super-cool, analysis guy who figures out what the villains are up to and where they are so we can go smash ‘em, can’t he?!”

Sharing a quick look with Dabi (who was taking Ochaco and Tsuyu’s empty glasses, his brows rising), Shouta then slanted his eyes to Katsuki as the boy huffed, his arms folding.

 _Shit_ …

Kirishima might have (completely inadvertently; he was such a friendly, enthusiastic and well-meaning young man: he’d not been around to see the pair bickering and didn’t go to their elementary school… not that Inko had said anything about the blonde being openly antagonistic as of late) opened a whole can of worms here.

Worms that could transform into snakes that’d rip apart the wonderful dynamic that the group had been nurturing…

“Tch, don’t be stupid” the explosive quirk user snorted, his crimson eyes meeting Izuku’s across the astro-turf, the canvas walls of the marquee flapping as the wind picked up; “Deku’s better at analysing quirks so he can help us fight smarter” he stated, his smirk tilting into a grin as he regarded his former(?) best friend. 

Dare he _hope_ that the kid was _finally_ acknowledging the boy who’d walk through fire for him?

“He’ll have to keep on getting smarter, tougher and faster if he’s gonna track villains down, as well” he furthered with a shrug before looking at the rest of the assembled kids. “Alla you are gonna have to get stronger and smarter too, right?” he stated before standing, his smile growing fierce; “cus we’re gonna be heroes, right? Heh! Get _real_ good and I’ll let you _all_ be in _my_ Agency~! Maa~! You’ll have to keep up because I’m gonna be the number one Pro someday, so I can’t be seen with weakling-losers, you got it?!”

God…

“Wah~! That’s so _freakin’ manly~!!_ ”

He couldn’t have been prouder…

“Heck yeah~! You can count on us, Kaachan~!”

In his most _irrational_ thought to date, Shouta had wanted to scoop the kid up and squeeze him, especially when many of the tots continued to cheer and nod enthusiastically at the _rousing_ speech that even had Dabi laugh snorting and shaking his head ruefully.

However, if the little hellion heard Hitoshi whisper a deadpanned “ _number one Pro? Tch, he’ll have to stop yelling “die” so much then, won’t he?_ ” to a thoughtfully nodding Tsuyu and a sweat-drop peppered Ochaco (who was clapping along despite herself), he was enjoying the positive attention too much to care.

Heh, small-mercies…

Then, feeling the tension bleed from his shoulders, he settled for ruffling the boisterous child’s soft yet spiky jags of glistening-blonde hair with his tray-less hand, instead.

This was… a big step…

A _huge_ one…

And the elated smile upon Izuku’s face as he breathed out a soft, overwhelmed “ _K-Kaachan_ ” had damned near melted him.

“Maa~ that goes for you and Dabi-nii, too, Aizawa-san” he boy veritably preening under his fingers stated determinedly; “you’ll probably be _way_ too old to fight by then _but_ you can be our manager, or our team-dad, or something” he offered whilst rubbing his nose in a pleased, superior gesture.

_This kid…_

“Ha, _team-dad_ , huh?” he chuckled, his heart warm; “heh… I’ll think about it…”

~*~

Waving off most of the kids and their parents (Kirishima-san and Mitsuki were already firm friends alongside Denki’s mother, the six walking off together; Tsuyu’s father, a little out of puff, had come for his daughter and her best-friend), Shouta had turned to look for Shinsou-san and Inko. However, when neither materialised after ten minutes (his lodger had taken the boys inside to have a quick wash at the bathroom’s sinks), he started to call them, his eyes narrowing at the apartment complexes that loomed behind his establishment.

“Oh~! Aizawa-san~! I’m sorry~!” Midoriya’s mother answered quickly, her tone panicked; “my boss called me half an hour ago~! Our company has been hacked and they need me to…”

“I can look after Izuku until the adult classes start” he called over the fluster he could hear in her voice; “do what you need to do, alright?”

“O-oh~! Shouta-kun that’s… you’re…”

Shit…

He could almost feel her tears seeping through the phone; God… when would life give that poor, deeply feeling woman a break?

“Don’t worry about it” he tried to soothe; “would it be okay to take him to the western district’s Mall?”

“Ahh~! You’re God send” she breathed; “he has his wallet with him… I was going to take him myself” she furthered, her tearful words now dejected: “he… he’s been so good and I wanted to treat him…”

“You can treat him once you’ve secured what you need to do for the job you work so hard at, Inko-san” he reminded; “he knows how diligent you are and we’ll make sure that he has a good time” he promised.

“T-thank you… thank you so much” she replied breathily; “I… I’ll see you at 17:00, okay?”

“Ja ne” he agreed, the call ending so that he could pursue the woman who worried him most of all out of the community he was building; “hello? Shinsou-san?”

“W-who… oh? Oh _what time is it?_ ”

Blinking, his eyes narrowing, Shouta felt his teeth grit; the woman sounded exhausted.

“It’s 11:15, Shinsou-san” he replied calmly; “are you alright?”

“A-Aizawa-san?” she breathed tiredly; “oh… Oh! Hitoshi, he…”

“He’s with me at the café” he assured; “we’re going to the Mall for a few hours and he’s welcome to join us” he said, his dark eyes casting over where the boy had told him he lived, his brows furrowing.

He’d still not worked out _how_ to help her beyond what he was doing.

Tch, what had Katsuki told them all not that long ago?

He’d need to get smarter, too, wouldn’t he?

“Y-you… you’re sure you wouldn’t mind?”

“It’s no trouble” he promised; “I can bring him back to your apartment at 16:30, if that’s alright?”

“That’d be wonderful, thank you” the woman he’d helped (but still hadn’t managed to save, shit) murmured; “I… if he needs anything, I can pay you back…”

“That won’t be necessary” he told her, his eyes closing against the warmth of the sun beneath the flawless blue sky that domed him, its pure, perfectness mocking the misery carrying on beneath it; “we’ll see you at 16:30, alright?”

~*~

So _this_ is what a _family-outing_ was supposed to look like, huh?

“How’s the view up there, kid? Can you see any sale-signs?”

Here they were, walking through the Mall, Izuku perched atop his employer’s shoulders (and diligently looking around, his left hand shielding his eyes as he hunted for bargains thanks to his perch) whilst Hitoshi conjoined them, one small hand clasped in his burnt one whilst the other happily rested in Shouta’s.

As they walked, instead of the usual mutters he heard about his “ _goth-clothes_ ” and “ _scary face_ ” he heard women comment about how “ _adorable_ ” they looked whilst some smaller children asked if they could ride their fathers’ shoulders and sighed that they wanted “ _a cool big brother_ ” like him.

“Wah~! Aizawa-san~! That game shop is offering ‘two for one’ and further discounts~!”

It felt… freeing.

Hell, it’d been a long time since he felt comfortable enough to be in public and _not_ be tense about it; heh, and although he’d _never_ admit it, him and his landlord wearing similar t-shirts (his was black with an azure blue-cat curled over his heart whilst Shouta’s was sky-blue with a black cat covering his) was a big help.

He felt… included.

 _Wanted_ …

Not for his quirk…

Not for his skills…

Not to satisfy a sycophantic man’s desire to overcome All Might…

“Then that’s where we’ll start… d’you boys have any place you want to go after or should we head straight to the food court?”

How he wished he could share this feeling with his siblings…

His siblings who were still under that bastard’s thumb…

A bastard that he knew, sadly, he still wasn’t strong enough to beat…

Not yet, anyway…

“Neh, Aizawa-san… nothing at the food court is as good as what you make~!”

However… the more he thought about _that man_ , the more Shouta’s words filtered through his mind…

“Yeah~! Toshi’s right~! I bet they don’t have cakes as good as _yours_ even in France~!”

Maybe…

Maybe he didn’t _need_ to be physically stronger…

“Heh, flattery will get you _everywhere_ with me, boys… just do me a favour and keep that to yourselves, alright?” 

Maybe he had to be _smarter_ …

Humming thoughtfully to himself, his turquoise eyes slanted thoughtfully to the unassuming man who’d blown his terrifying world apart and gently fixed the pieces back together with compassion, kindness and infinite generosity.

This man, he thought, could be the answer to his problems…

But…

“We won’t tell the others, we promise~!”

It was too soon to act just yet and… as happy and settled as he was right now…

To go after Endeavour half-cocked, to just blurt out who he really was and why he’d chosen to fake his death, he…

He just wasn’t _ready_ …

“Heh, good to know… okay Izuku, lead the way.”

It was selfish, he knew; his siblings, his _mother_ needed help right now but…

Against Todoroki’s legal team, his wealth, his _army_ of staff and resources, he couldn’t ask Shouta to get involved with someone who’d think _nothing_ of suing every yen out of him…

Worse still, the fanatical bastard could accuse his employer of abduction, coercion, _grooming_ …

It wouldn’t take a lot of that bastard’s time and money to lock the raven-haired man up and throw away the key, would it?

Hmm…

No, no he’d have to wait, bide his time and _think_ about how he could approach a conversation about who he was and what he needed to do to this wonderful man, wouldn’t he?

The last thing that he wanted was to repay the café owner’s warmth and care with trouble and jail time…

“You okay?”

Blinking out of his thoughts, Dabi felt his cheeks warm as the other three looked at him expectantly; huh, they were already outside the store, weren’t they?

“Heh, sorry” he smiled sheepishly whilst Shouta carefully placed Izuku back onto the floor so that they could enter. Tch, he’d promised to keep swapping the kids around so they could both have a few turns and had even offered him a go; at his words, the younger males had laughed: however, the lovable nutcase had seemed completely serious and asked him if he thought he couldn’t lift or carry him...

They’d wheeze-laughed for a solid five minutes.

“Let’s go in then” he hedged, Hitoshi’s hand still in his as they moved; “the sooner we pick up a few games the sooner we can get back to the café and demand that our _team-dad_ make us lunch, right?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hmm...
> 
> Why might All Might want so much cake at this time of the year...
> 
> _Hmm~!!_


	15. Assumptions...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Warnings include: swearing, angst, heavy is the head that wears the crown, reflections on what it means to be hero, reflections on what happiness is, references to shady-neighbourhoods/upsetting themes and *deep, DEEP breath***
> 
> **FFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEELLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS~!!**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am having THE MOST fun with this~!
> 
> Thank you for sharing this journey with me, guys~!
> 
> : )

Returning to the café, their purchases in hand; Izuku had bought two copies of the latest manga so that Hitoshi (bashfully thrilled) could have one alongside a cute, cat-anime character to have as the eatery’s unofficial mascot. Damn, he wondered how the boy’s big heart fit in such a small chest and, as they merrily laughed, discussed what they were having for lunch (teriyaki chicken with tsukemono and gohan; because eating healthily was important and serving preserved pickles with freshly steamed rice would keep them fuller for longer), everything seemed perfect.

Then he’d felt his eyes narrow at an unfamiliar car parked in a side-street they’d just passed, it’s engine rumbling in a low-purr.

Upon careful, concealed inspection through his long waves of hair, he could see that it was a big, flashy, expensive, _American_ looking thing in hot-rod red and royal-blue with dark, tinted windows; did it belong to a pimp? A drug-lord? A shady official with more yen than sense looking for one of the many brothels that peppered the area?

Not being too sure, he’d clocked the license-plate (just in case) and text a reminder to himself to check his CCTV later.

For, regardless of the good things he was trying to foster and provide for this neglected part of Musutafu, there was no denying the criminal element still stinking up the place.

Worse still, the bastards who allegedly ‘ _ran_ ’ the place didn’t seem to care about the time of day they decided to seep out from under the shadowy-buildings, dingey-bars and crooked pachinko parlours that ensconced the area.

The only _blessing_ was that many of the low-lives kept to themselves and didn’t bother any kids for the majority; they’d learned a few decades ago that The National Hero Association wouldn’t tolerate anyone actively targeting children and, thankfully, most kids were able to defend themselves, these days.

Hmm…

It still grated on him that they were allowed to haunt the lives of ordinary people, though…

However, he couldn’t realistically order the local Pros into action against the thugs he saw skulking around or appeal to the over-stretched police force to root-out, clean-up and disband the gang-bangers, drug-pushers or other peddlers of human misery without evidence, could he?

Tch…

As much as he believed in the legal-system (and followed _most_ rules to the letter; he’d seen what’d happened to people who didn’t and, if his café was to be successful, then he needed _all_ of his bases covered, didn’t he?) _sometimes_ the irrationality of it made him want to spit.

That, and the _justice_ meted out these days rarely fell in favour of the truly innocent because, as wrong as it was, money _still_ ruled over everything; yes… being guilty, today, seemed to boil down to who had the better lawyers, didn’t it?

The most sickening part of such an arrangement was that the villains and criminals who had the yen to win their cases accrued their wealth from the victims of their cruelty and _laughed_ as they, (the addicts, the sex-workers, the poverty ridden people who scraped and scrimped to live) were carted off to prison.

It was wrong…

 _So_ wrong and, if he’d had the money for it, he would have entered the vipers-pit that was modern law as a profession to affect the changes he felt were warranted.

However, he’d never been accepted into that world or society; a no-account orphan had _no_ place in the Government, did they?

No.

But at least he could do something…

Hell, even something as small as taking three boys to the Mall to brighten their day and lighten the invisible, emotive-weight they all had roped about their necks like an albatross from that poem he’d had to study in his advanced English classes when he was Dabi’s age.

For, looking at them now? You wouldn’t think that Izuku was eaten up by his lack of quirk or that Hitoshi lived in a broken home that his mother was _desperately_ trying to stitch back together for him.

Even his lodger, now pleasantly chatting with the iris haired boy atop his shoulders whilst the forest haired tot swung between the secure swing that their arms had made for him, seemed lighter, his free hand holding a bag of games he was promising to run them both through later.

Something told him, from the way he was so naturally at ease with the boys, that he’d filled the role of ‘ _nii-san_ ’ before…

It made him wonder _where_ those younger siblings were…

It made him question what kind of hell they could be trapped in…

It made him want to ask _but_ , he had to be cautious…

There was a fine-line between helping people and butting in, wasn’t there?

“Maa~ Aizawa-san~ may we _please_ have some cake with lunch~?!”

“Only if you eat all of your vegetables and have some fruit to go with it” he replied as, after a quick look to his lodger, they swung the giggling child between them for one, final big-sway, his little legs happily kicking at the air before they landed him, safely, onto the concrete. 

“You gotta deal, Aizawa-san~!” the freckled child chirped whilst Hitoshi was gently eased next to him; “even green-peppers taste good when you cook them~!” he grinned.

Heh…

 _Flattery_ , huh?

Then, his hand passing the keys to a delightedly excited Hitoshi, he gestured for the boys to scamper to the door (the pair laughing and admiring the black-cat key-chain Dabi had insisted that he have) whilst he cast one last look around.

The car he’d spied earlier had crept around the corner and parked only a few feet away…

Hmm.

“You okay?” 

Nodding at his employee, he gestured for them to keep moving, their images mirrored in the tall, wide windows of his establishment whilst the children in their care cheered and pushed the door open, the little bell’s chimes ringing out into the relative quiet of this warm, summer’s day.

If some ballsy dickhead thought he could get the drop on him and attack him and his… ugh, _the_ kids, then they’d have another thing coming, wouldn’t they?

~*~

Considering that he was _supposed_ to be the number one ‘ _Pro Hero_ ’ Yagi Toshinori _knew_ that he was, in actual fact, a coward…

“ _Could we…_ ”

“ _Good bye, Sir… beep-beep-beep_ ”

Sighing dejectedly (he didn’t _dare_ meet the caustic gaze of his sidekick and dear friend as they sat in the relative quiet of the slenderer hero’s Agency), the blonde slumped into the executive chair he’d previously, _so_ excitedly, perched in and sombrely spun in a slow, disappointed circle.

_Ahh_ …

He’d so wanted the adorably gruff man to attend his birthday party and supply the desserts; no other muffin he’d tasted since could compare to the batch Aizawa-san had baked and he was certain, if he ever tried anymore of roguish man’s confections, that he’d quite happily only eat them in the future…

“Isn’t moping beneath you, senpai?”

Shrugging massive shoulders, he finally stopped his saddened spiralling and looked to Mirai, his lips pulling that awkward pout that both Nana and Torino used to berate him for.

“You are aware that, technically, he hasn’t said _no_ to making anything at all for you, right?”

Blinking, his head cocking to the side, Toshinori realised that, from the moment he’d heard that whiskey-over gravel voice say that the request he’d made was “irrational” and that he had **no** interest in attending his “function” that he’d been almost _too_ heartbroken to listen.

“Eh?”

“You’re still welcome at the café” the golden eyed male huffed through an exasperated chuckle; “ _and_ he told you to talk to him in person, so surely _that_ should make you happy?”

“He… he _said_ that?”

“I’m not your secretary… apparently” the other quipped before a quiet mutter of “ _at least _someone_ realises this_”, a sly smile curling his lips; “he’s quite the interesting young man, isn’t he?”

“Ahh~ you think so too?” the powerhouse mused, his expression now pleasantly contemplative, until; “mm… I’m not sure how I could face him after this… I… I have offended him without meaning to, thrown my weight around and I…” he sighed, his crestfallen aura returning: “I’ve never met _anyone_ so… _so_ …”

“ _Un_ -enamoured by you, hmm?” Mirai chuckled his expression rueful as they regarded each other.

“Yes, _yes_ , that’s it~” the taller hero enthused; “it’s… terrifying and… invigorating~!” he admitted, a smile stretching his lips once more.

“Well then, what’re you waiting for?” the leaner of the two grinned, his brows arching wryly; “go down there and speak to him and make a more… _rational_ order” he suggested with a mild shrug: “the worst thing that can happen is him saying _no_ again, surely?”

“But what if he _does_ say that~?” he queried; “maybe it’s best to just leave the issue all together…” he mourned, his head now in his hands whilst his tongue _desperately_ tried to remember the taste of those _delectable_ muffins…

Oh! He could _almost_ smell them~!

“Tch, you best be careful” the younger man tittered; “if any villain hears that you’ve been thwarted by a gruff, little cook who’s treated you like a person instead of an icon then they’ll be flooding that poor man’s café and asking for pointers” he smirked.

“Ha-ha-ha” the sun-kissed warrior deadpanned, that pout returning; “and I would _never_ allow such a terrible thing to befall Aizawa-san and the Noraneko~” he promised before, his impressive form standing, his expression fiercely, resolutely determined. “But yes… Yes! You’re right, my friend~!” he proclaimed; “I _should_ see this as an obstacle to overcome, a quest I must endure, a _battle_ ~!”

“I… I didn’t _mean_ …”

“A battle that I shall _win_ ~!” he boasted before strutting towards the office’s exit, a puff of steam leaving his nostrils as he punched his right fist into his open left palm, the dog-tags laying atop his white t-shirt jangling as his booted feet marched his khaki-cargo panted legs towards his inevitable victory. “Ja ne, Mirai-sa and thank you, once again, for your excellent advice and steadfast support~!” he called triumphantly.

Then, his hulking body swiftly moving, it was Mirai’s turn to sigh.

 _Tch_.

That lovable idiot…

“Good luck” he breathed into the empty room, his mind’s eye summoning up an image of the charmingly blunt eatery owner.

“I believe that you’re going to need it…”

~*~

Being mindful of Aizawa’s _errands_ and knowing that the other didn’t want any media attention (would wonders never cease? He could hardly believe that the corny, _silly_ photograph that Bubblegirl had insisted on taking (not that he’d needed convincing in the spirit of fun~!) wasn’t splashed all over the internet) he decided to…

 _Lay-low_ …

Therefore, he drove a car that was registered under his true name (and not under his Hero Agency) that had darkened windows and was _just_ big enough to hide himself in.

Sure… it was a little noticeable in an area _other_ than Tokyo _but_ he couldn’t exactly just walk around without people noticing.

He’d tried the _Clark Kent_ thing that he’d seen in his favourite, American comic book and found that, sadly, a simple disguise of glasses, a different hair-style and two-piece suit did precious little to convince the populace that was just an ordinary man.

Heh…

It’d been worth a try, though…

Not that he didn’t love the man, the _symbol_ he’d become; to have the power necessary to fundamentally shape and change his beloved homeland for the better was beyond his wildest, boyhood dreams.

To have known and been loved by Shimura Nana, his own mother having died when he was young, was a blessing he would _never_ take for granted.

Not that he took his adoring public for granted, either.

No.

He could and would _never_ let them down.

Not while there was breath in his body, but…

 _But_ …

Who’d have thought that he, a kid from a quiet suburb in the backend of Tokyo, would ever rise to such heady heights?

Who’d have thought that he’d crave the anonymity he’d spent an entire childhood bemoaning?

Who’d have thought that he, a man famous the world over for his smile, charisma and positive attitude would long for the opportunity to simply walk down a street, go into a café and enjoy a quiet coffee with some cake…

To enjoy an actual, intimate birthday party amongst those he loved and cared about as opposed to hosting _an event_ where the wealthy had _paid_ to schmooze with him, his body posing on demand for photographs, his smile spread for their entertainment and him not minding, _not truly_ , because their yen would go to better causes…

Causes that, regardless of his fame, power and prowess, still existed in the country that he loved so much…

The country that he’d die for, if he needed to…

When that time could…

When that time _would_ , eventually, come…

_**“Maa~ Aizawa-san~ may we _please_ have some cake with lunch~?!”** _

Blinking out of his thoughts, Toshinori realised that his quarry had returned from whatever errands he was running and, as he watched, as his eyes _followed_ the group, he couldn’t help the warmth that flooded his chest…

_**“Only if you eat all of your vegetables and have some fruit to go with it...”** _

For there, having already walked past his car and moving swiftly towards the café, was what he’d been fighting to protect since the day he’d first taken hold of Nana’s hair and reverently ate it as she’d watched him, her smile radiant as he promised to use her gifts (and those of the others) for the greater good…

The greater good of family and friends enjoying something as sweet, as _simple_ as strolling together, unafraid and laughing…

Swallowing thickly, he continued to gaze, _almost_ spellbound whilst the unlikely (yet strangely perfect) gaggle of people contentedly went about their way, a radiant child swinging whimsically between the two, taller people whilst another boy, his smile joyous, straddled strong shoulders and cheered at the prospect of something as ordinary as eating… 

Curious (and, perhaps, more than a little envious), he carefully drove his car around the quiet, pot-hole littered side-street he’d sheltered in, the lyrics of one of his _favourite_ songs still humming from the radio whilst the children danced away with a set of keys to no doubt open the brightest-building amidst the veritable, concrete jungle that loomed all around it…

“Come on Yagi” he murmured to himself; “you can do this…”

~*~

Sending the boys to wash up in the café’s bathrooms (he only used premium handwash in there and, despite his dislike of such things, the booths, sinks and toilets themselves were _spotless_ ), the bag of videogames and other wonderful things to keep them entertained sat in the gaming-station amidst the bean-bags, Shouta let out a breath.

It wasn’t worth getting the coffee machine (beloved as it was) sputtering and jittering to life _just_ for him, was it?

No, that’d be an irrational use of resources and energy and _no_ , he wasn’t letting any of those children touch even a sip of the (admittedly glorious) caffeine that the ancient machine was capable of producing.

God…

Izuku’s energy levels would have him bouncing across the ceiling and Hitoshi needed _more_ sleep, not less.

That went double for Dabi.

Hmm…

“Tea it is” he muttered, his right hand shoved in his jeans’ back-pocket to snag his (now iconic, according to his lodger) Hello-Kitty bobble so that he could shove his hair up and out of the way.

 _Just_ because his eatery was officially closed at the moment didn’t _mean_ that he’d slack on the health and safety front; no one, especially not the boys in his care, would be getting sick on his watch, thank you…

* **Tap-tap-tap** *

Blinking, his head tilting away from the service bar he’d been absentmindedly inspecting (everything was set up and ready for Monday morning’s breakfast rush _but_ he could grab more napkins and take-away boxes; heh, the kids probably wouldn’t minding stamping a few pawprints on them, right?) to the door, Shouta felt a headache forming.

A seven-foot-two, goodness only knew _how_ many pounds worth of headache.

However…

The guy had come himself, hadn’t he?

No fanfare, no paparazzi, no _costume_ …

 _Good_.

Walking to the door, he swiftly unlocked it and allowed him inside with a gesture; the main, overhead lights weren’t on so _hopefully_ any passers-by wouldn’t clock the number one Pro side-stepping into his café.

Heh…

He’d need to look into widening the door if his visits were going to become a habit, wouldn’t he?

“Ahh~ Aizawa-san, I’m sorry to bother you~ ahahaa~”

“No you’re not” he stated, his right brow cocking; “if you genuinely didn’t want to bother me then you wouldn’t be here in the first place and you’re not a bother, per say, you’re just someone who _clearly_ doesn’t know what opening hours are” he advised before making his way behind the service bar, their eyes locking. “So, why the visit?” he asked.

“O-oh… well, firstly? I wanted to apologise to you, ano… in person?”

“Apologise?” he repeated bluntly; “for what, exactly?” he pushed: “for having your associate speak for you? For acquiring my personal cellphone number without my explicit consent _or_ for assuming that your status in society automatically entitles you to have what you want, _when_ you want it?”

Watching as the hulking man _almost_ shrank in on himself, Shouta huffed; “all of the above, I take it?”

“Y-yes, I…”

“Apology accepted” he shrugged; “however, if you’re here to make that same request in person, then I’m afraid you’ve come all this way in vain” he told him frankly: “an order of that size is beyond what I am willing to do _but_ a smaller order is possible so long as you or someone you trust is willing to pick up the food at a specified time” he added.

“I… you… you’ll forgive me, just like that?”

“Why wouldn’t I?” he blinked; “from what little I know of you based on our previous encounter, you’re a well-meaning man who didn’t intend to cause offence” he reasoned: “furthermore, you had the integrity to come here to make an apology in the first place” he mused. “Many people with your kind of status and influence wouldn’t have bothered” he continued mildly; “refusing to accept an apology freely given and obviously meant would be irrational at best and petty at worst, wouldn’t it?”

“A-Aizawa-san, you…”

“ _ **OH MY GOD~!!**_ ”

Oh yeah, Izuku was still here, wasn’t he?

Turning his face towards the opened toilet doors (because he wouldn’t miss _this_ reaction for the world), Shouta watched as the forest haired child pointed a shaking, jittery finger at the now (Good Lord) preening and posing ‘ _Symbol of Peace_ ’ whilst Hitoshi, similarly star-struck, gawped at him.

Dabi, however, looked just as nonplussed as he did.

“All Might” he began, his eyes still fixed upon the tots; “this is Midoriya Izuku and Shinsou Hitoshi” he introduced: “Izuku is, quite possibly, your number one fan… and I’d be willing to bet my café that he’d fight for and win that title if he had to” he chuckled.

“Ahh~ Midoriya-shonen, Shinsou-shonen~! What a pleasure to— _oh~!_ ”

Sighing, his head shaking ruefully (because _why_ was he not surprised?), the erasure quirk user watched as both boys passed out in a dead-faint, their small forms caught by a bewildered looking Dabi.

“Oh my, are they alright?”

“Heh, they’ll be fine” he assured whilst hoping over the privacy gate and jogging towards his lodger whilst the taller, broader man tentatively followed; once he’d reached them, he carefully removed them from the flame quirk users arms and gently deposited them onto the beanbags. “Well” he sighed; “you’ve gone and done it now” he chuckled: “make yourself comfortable while I fire up the coffee machine” he ordered before looking to the sixteen-year-old. “D’you wanna head up stairs and sort out what you’re gonna wear for when _you know who_ visits tomorrow, hmm?”

Baulking, the tense-nervous energy he’d seen building around the other’s frame melting under the gentle teasing, the dark haired boy snorted out a “very funny, _dad_ ” and walked past him after giving the powerhouse a tentative nod.

“I’ll call you down when lunch is ready, alright?”

“Got it, _thank you_ ~!”

Snickering a little despite himself, Shouta then regarded the hesitantly sitting man who’d inadvertently caused such a fuss; “I’m making teriyaki chicken with side-dishes” he told him: “would you like some with a cup of coffee and a slice of Devil’s Food cake?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alternative Title: All Might Wants To Eat Aizawa’s Muffin(s)~!
> 
> XD
> 
> Take this as you will~!


	16. Dreams...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Warnings include: angst, references to upsetting scenes/lifestyles/family situations/parental death/anxiety/sacrifices/what it means to be a hero/swearing and... you know the drill by now...**
> 
> **FFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEELLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS~!!**
> 
> Heh...
> 
> I always imagine Present Mic shouting that for me~!
> 
> XD

All but swooning at the delicious scents drifting into the café from the mostly concealed kitchen area, Yagi heard and felt his stomach rumble like the burgeoning of a summer-storm.

Heh…

He’d always had a _healthy_ appetite, however, there was no denying Aizawa-san’s culinary prowess, was there?

Sighing, his lips wrapping about the bamboo straw swimming in the lemonade he’d ordered alongside the (deep, rich, magnificent coffee he’d blended with crème and sugar) coffee he’d been given (he’d insisted on paying; generosity aside, the standoffish eatery owner deserved every cent for his considerable talents) whilst he considered the two boys across from him.

And the older, more mysterious and clearly cautious young man who’d excused himself.

These children, for all intents and purposes, were the forgotten, silent minority in this world today, weren’t they?

He could tell that the teenager had scars that ran deeper than what was clearly on the surface whilst Hitoshi, so tired looking even as he slept, had a quirk that (according to the now busily cooking man) many associated with villainy (which should be preposterous _but_ he’d heard of (and tried to counter) such stereotyping).

Then there was young Midoriya, wasn’t there?

 _Quirkless_ …

He remembered his own hopelessness, the sting of tears lacing his eyes whilst friends and family similarly went about their way sporting one power or another.

If it weren’t for Nana, then he, too, would be so marginalised…

It made him wonder, it made him _think_ because… wouldn’t he need a successor?

Wouldn’t _he_ have to pass on his power at some stage to the next generation?

This child, of course, was far too young for such a thing (and he still had a great deal of work to do; All for One still lurked in the shadows, didn’t he? Putting pay to him was, to his mind, one of the main reasons why he kept on fighting, smiling and forgoing such things as family); however…

According to Aizawa-san, the boy was firmly and steadfastly working towards his career as a hero (which… would be difficult; however, if the searing glare his host had sent him was anything to go by, then dissuading the lad was **not** an option… and nor should it be, really. For, what was a hero _other_ than someone who fought for what was right?).

Perhaps…

With time, training, tenacity and perseverance _this_ child (warm-hearted, passionate, intelligent, motivated and endearing) could step into his boots, couldn’t he?

Hmm…

It was worth talking to Mirai about at any rate, wasn’t it?

His sidekick (adoring, considerate and thoughtful as he was) often spoke to him in whispers about the future…

How peace being maintained at any cost surely wasn’t, _couldn’t be_ peace at all…

God.

As loathe as he was to admit it, he knew that he wasn’t invulnerable…

He knew what the risks were (and kept others at arms lengths because of it)…

“Here you go.”

Blinking out of his thoughts (worries for another time, conversations that could be held later, investigations that could be put on the back-burner for now), Yagi felt a true smile (not the one that he threw on for the cameras or his fans) tug his lips; “that looks sensational” he praised.

Nodding in thanks, the man then moved two of the four platters he’d brought with him to the table closest to the gaming area, those dark eyes resting on the sleeping children thoughtfully.

“You don’t have to wait on my account” he called over his shoulder before running gentle hands over each boy’s unruly mop of hair; “please eat it while it’s hot…”

Not needing to be told twice, Toshinori let out a happy chirp of “ita-dakimasu~” and set his chopsticks to work; “umm~” he chuckled: “just wonderful~” he sighed, his eyes slanting towards the kitchen (where the older boy had scurried off to), his smile dimming a touch. “Will your other… ugh, _guest_ not be joining us?”

“Dabi is… a little shy around strangers” the raven-haired man countered mildly.

“Ah, I see… ano~ forgive me if this question is too personal, but… did he not call you “dad” earlier?” he chuckled; “it’s just that you seem too young to have a son of that age, ahahaa~!”

Laugh snorting and rolling his eyes, the longer haired man crouched down between the tots and regarded him over his shoulder; “ _obviously_ he’s not my son” he quipped.

Heh…

Something was telling the number one Pro that time and biology, in this instance, had very little to do with anything when it came to the big heart clearly beating away under the curled, black-cat upon the other man’s t-shirt.

Mmm~

How very _cute_ ~!

~*~

Making his way tentatively back down the stairs (his nose would have led him there even if his employer hadn’t called him) Dabi looked at the note left for him on the kitchen door; “you’re welcome to join us but, if you’re uncomfortable I understand… your lunch is on the back work bench with the books your bought today”.

Chuckling, he pushed open the barrier which separated their living-quarters from the (ridiculous spotless; he wasn’t sure how the older man did it: maybe he had a secondary quirk where he could erase dirt and grime?) kitchen and wandered in.

However, before he sought his food, he carefully looked through the circular window that rested in the barrier between the kitchen and service area, his hands quietly pushing it open a fraction so he could hear what was going on.

He’d never admit it _but_ he was interested to see how much more hyper Izuku could become in front of his idol.

Heh; if he could find away to bottle and sell the kid’s enthusiasm then he’d have enough money to drowned Endeavour in both physical _and_ metaphorical shit, wouldn’t he?

“… seem too young to have a son of his age, ahahaa~!”

Blinking, he tilted his head closer to the crack he’d made, his left ear straining.

They were talking about him?

“… not my son” he heard his employer huff incredulously.

No…

No, he wasn’t (mores the pity); he was just some loser that the owner had felt sorry for and had helped out of pity, he…

“… actually my lodger, employee and a very dear friend…”

_W-what?_

“… works really hard and he’s wonderful with the children…”

Tch, he wasn’t that good with the rug-rats… and no… no he _didn’t_ …

“… he’s also my chief taste-tester and the reason why we have yakisoba on the menu… he’s a great kid and, full disclosure? I don’t think I could run this place the way I do without him.” 

Swallowing thickly, Dabi leaned a little against the door, the tightness in his chest easing; Shouta… really thought all of that?

“… sounds like a fine young man… I’m sorry if my presence here, in some way, has unsettled him?”

“Don’t take it personally” he heard the younger of the two men reply blithely; “now… let’s see if I can rouse your biggest fan and his friend, shall we?”

Taking a step back, the sixteen-year-old sucked in a deep, steadying breath, walked into the wider kitchen space and took up the he used stool, his eyes taking in the lovingly prepared meal and glass of his favourite-flavoured lemonade with a shaky sigh.

From here, he could still hear bits and pieces of their conversation through the wide, herb-plant covered (and never used for it’s intended purpose) service window that yawned between the service-area-to-kitchen door and the brightly lit “connections and contacts” board over the hum of the massive coolers and thrum of the A/C.

Damn…

If this is what compassion felt like…

If this is what _friendship_ was…

If this is how a family could be, well…

He was pretty fucking luckily to have found it, wasn’t he?

~*~

“Izuku? Ahh… that’s it, come on… open your eyes…”

“H-huh?” swallowing thickly, his eye-lids fluttering, Izuku realised a few things _very_ quickly.

“You feeling okay? You’re not dizzy?”

The first? He wasn’t in his room and the dream he’d had (one that’d been a favourite for a while now; he and his friends were older, their hero Agency established, the evils of the world taken down by them or convinced to change their ways for the better) was, sadly, still just a dream.

For now, at least…

“Nuh-uh” he breathed; “Aizawa-san? W-what?”

The second? He was in his very most favouritest place _after_ his All Might spackled bedroom, the scent of something _yummy_ tickling his nose and helping to wake him.

“You’ve had a bit of a… shock” the kindly man who _always_ chased away his sadness chuckled; “so I want you to take a few deep breaths before you sit up, alright?”

“Okay” he replied, his nostrils flaring as he sucked the warm, fragrant air and released it in a sigh.

He’d often wondered, since the man his mother called ‘ _an absolute God send_ ’ had seamlessly waltzed into their lives for the better, what it’d be like to have a sleep over in the establishment.

As his little chest rose and fell, he believed that it’d probably be _every_ bit as wonderful as he’d thought it would be.

One day… and one day soon he… he _would_ pluck up the courage to ask if he and his friends could camp out there for the evening.

He couldn’t think of anything more magical…

“Now, I’m going to help you to sit up and, as I do, I want you to stay calm, alright?”

Blinking at him a little owlishly, Izuku cocked his head to the side; “but I’m always calm when you’re around, Aizawa-san” he chuckled: “you take real good care of us so… well, it’d be hard not to be” he added genuinely before he received his _definite_ favourite gesture of all time.

A gentle, fatherly tousle of his hair.

“Alright then, up you come.”

Giggling as he was lifted into the safety of those strong arms and held against a warm chest, Izuku _almost_ failed to catch the muffled sound (a soft cooing?) emanating from the café proper.

Humming, he turned his head to find…

“ _ **Oo-oo-oh~!**_ ”

“Stay calm” his current guardian chuckled; “would you like to say hello this time, hmm?”

Staring, his jaw hanging open, a plethora of stars and stripes billowing from his imagination to wrap around the legend he’d set his heart on meeting but had _never_ dreamed of seeing up close he couldn’t help the squeal of; “A-a-a-l-l-l-llll~!”.

“Maa, Midoriya-shonen” the _almost_ mythical Pro smiled warmly; “it is a true pleasure to meet you” he said, his usual intensity dialled down a touch as he stood from his chair: “would you do me the honour of sitting with me to eat your lunch before it gets cold?” he furthered. “I must confess that I was _very_ close to eating it, myself~!” he chuckled whilst Aizawa-san placed him onto the ground.

“I… I…” he swallowed whilst looking back up to the closest thing to a father figure he’d ever had.

“It’s alright” the raven-haired man soothed; “let me just get Hitoshi awake and then I’ll grab you a note pad, alright?” he offered: “we can’t have your favourite Pro escaping without answering a few of your burning questions, now, can we?”

Gasping, his arms latching around the older man’s leg as he rasped out a “thank-you-Aizawa-san-you’re-the-best-thank-you~!!”, he then scampered towards the sun-kissed legend, his body folding into a deep, full bow; “it’s-such-a-pleasure-to-meet-you-sir-please-eat-my-lunch-if-you-want-it~!”

Then, after his favourite non-hero (after his mother, of course) huffed out a “you’ll eat your lunch yourself, young man… you’ll not become strong enough to be a hero without fuel, will you?” he then bowed at him with a; “yes-you’re-right-sorry-Aizawa-san-I’ll-start-eating-now-thank-you~!” before scampering to the chair that All Might…

_WAH~! ALL MIGHT-O~!!_

… had pulled out for him.

If this _was_ , in fact, a dream then he’d _happily_ stay in it forever…

~*~

He remembered a time, not that long ago, that he’d _actually_ liked sleeping; however… after the police came that terrible night, their forms stood morosely in the doorway his father should have occupied, well…

It felt as though he was trapped in a nightmare even when he was awake…

He hated the cramped, virtually empty apartment they’d been forced to live in…

He hated waking up to find his mother no longer in her room…

He hated when she came home tired and tearful, her brave smile trying to hide her pain…

He hated the men who wolf-whistled her on the few times she’s walked him anywhere…

But, most of all, he hated being so helpless, so tired, so _powerless_ …

He’d begged his mother to let him use his quirk, to let him chase the scary men away…

She, in turn, had begged him not to; “ _it’d do more harm than good, my darling_ ” she’d told him…

From then on… his mind was filled with images of her broken smile, her forced delight at him having a positive report-card, her faked assurances that things would get better…

Until, quite unexpectedly, they had…

“Hitoshi? Come on, it’s lunch time, alright?”

He’d been dubious at first (because fairy-tales, heroes and people who did good for goods sake were make-believe, weren’t they?) when he’d wandered into the (admittedly adorable; he’d _always_ loved cats and had, before his father was taken from them, hoped to own one) Norneko Café; however…

“Umm?”

After walking under that cute, happily chiming bell, the warmth, air and light washing some of his apprehension away, he’d found _so much more_ then he could ever have dreamed of…

Aizawa-san’s kindness could only be equalled by the amazing food he served; food, he knew, that the man didn’t charge his mother for…

Dabi’s quick wit and sarcastic sense of humour… 

Izuku’s charming friendliness and hopeful spirit…

Denki’s adorable energy and radiant personality…

Tsuyu’s endearing smile…

Ochaco’s joyous laughter…

Kirishima’s limitless enthusiasm…

Bakugo’s powerful determination…

God…

As ordinary and _awkward_ as he was… they’d _all_ accepted him… they all _wanted_ to include him and treated him like a person…

“Hitoshi?”

Mumbling a quite “five more minutes”, he _finally_ forced his eyelids open to find one of the people he’d just been thinking about chuckling next to him; “oh? Aizawa-san?” he blinked whilst looking around at the gaming area he was slumped in, one of the large beanbags having made for a comfortable resting place.

“Do you feel alright? You fainted twenty minutes ago” the other told him, those dark eyes checking him over; “your lunch is ready” he stated whilst helping him to sit up.

“Lunch?” he asked before, as he observed the rest of the café, his jaw was suddenly hanging loose once again as he saw _All Might_ the real, _actual_ All Might sat next to his quirkless friend who, in between rapid chewing and swallowing, was talking the blonde’s bewildered ear off.

Heh…

Why was he not surprised?

“Is… is that _really_ him?” he whispered to one of the only adults he trusted.

“I’m afraid so” the café owner grinned; “now come on, let’s get you fed and watered” he advised before standing, a hand offered to him.

Smiling, he eagerly clasped those digits and “ _whooped_ ” as he was lifted clean off the floor before being placed down next to a chair where his meal was waiting.

“I’ll be right back with that notepad” the longer-haired of the adults called; “Izuku? _Eat_.”

“Maa~ sorry~!”

Snickering, his fingers reaching for his chop-sticks, Hitoshi found that the _shock_ of seeing the man whose singular, tattered poster was the only small piece of decoration in his tiny bedroom had slowly simmered down; sure, he still wanted to talk to him (and get an autograph for himself and the others, Denki especially) but…

“Ahh~! And you must be Shinsou-kun, neh~! Why, it’s a pleasure to meet you, my boy~!”

As he watched Aizawa-san walk towards the service-bar, his smile broadening despite himself before he tucked in to his meal he knew, without a shadow of a doubt that, out of the men occupying this space with him, whom the true hero in the room was…

~*~

Watching as Izuku wrote as though his pad would suddenly disappear whilst a calmer, more considerate Hitoshi added an awe-filled query or two, Shouta took the plates away, washed them and looked over the dough he’d made earlier that was happily proving, his hand absentmindedly reaching for and checking his phone.

He’d sent a quick text to Dabi (who was heading for a shower; he’d thanked him for the food and already seen to his own dirty cutlery; heh, such a good kid), checked his CCTV and, with a snort, shook his head ruefully.

 _Of course_ that obnoxious vehicle belonged to All Might.

Chuckling despite himself, he re-entered the café and set up a few take away boxes and cups ready for decoration, the little stamper he’d made and his ink-set at the ready.

It’d just turned 14:30, which meant there was still plenty of time before the adult classes and, his next stock order already in the works and what prep work he could do already done, the eatery owner decided to treat himself to another cup of (ahh~ bliss) coffee before snagging a little baggy of salty-liquorice from his private stash.

Most people didn’t like the taste, apparently.

Tch.

 _Most_ people were idiots…

“ _Whoa~!_ ”

Blinking, a little, fish-shaped piece meeting its end in his mouth, he shifted his attention to the merry trio whilst the ‘ _Symbol of Peace_ ’ showed off a phone that _probably_ cost more than his entire establishment.

 _Irrational_ …

“Ahh~! Forgive me, my young friends, but it seems as though I’m needed elsewhere~!” he announced.

‘ _Oh no…_ ’ he thought with a little, sarcastic quip that he _actually_ didn’t mean; the man was nice enough and, for the jubilation painted across Izuku’s face alone, having him around had been worth it.

“Wah~! Good-luck-sir-I-just-know-that-you’re-going-to-win~!” the freckle-speckled boy said dutifully with a _salute_ of all things.

“Thank you, my young friend~!” the sun kissed man returned, his massive hands resting atop their heads; “I’m sure that our paths will cross again soon, but, in the meantime, look after yourselves and keep working hard~!” he told them before making his approach, his massive form _bowing_ at him formally.

But _why_ , though?

“Aizawa-san, thank you very much for your time this afternoon” he said, those intense, neon-eyes locking with his; “if it wouldn’t be inconvenient, may I please call you later about a more rational order?” he asked, that smaller, more genuine smile touching his lips. “I can’t think of anyone who I would prefer to make a selection of birthday confections for myself and my dearest friends to enjoy, I…” he furthered before pulling into a stand, a shaky chuckle rippling across those massive shoulders; “you… you really have no idea, do you?” he chuckled.

“No idea about what?”

“I…”

“ **AN URGENT MESSAGE IS HERE~! AN URGENT MESSAGE IS HERE~!** ”

Blinking, their gazes slipping to the phone (God… he used his _own_ ringtone? _Hilarious_ ) the other still held, Shouta waved him off; “call me after 20:00” he told him: “and be careful out there, alright?”

Then, his brows lifting a fraction as the other blushed to the tips of his ears, the café owner was forced to endure _another_ ridiculously reverent bow before the other carefully exited through the door and _literally_ launched himself into the air.

“ _ **Wwwwwhhhhhooooooaaaaaaa~!**_ ” the boys cried, their bodies scampering to the closest booth so that they could crawl across the padded seating to crowd one of the windows (he was just glad that they hadn’t shattered; there’d been a kind of sonic-boom as he sprung away, hadn’t there?), their eyes trying to follow the man’s progress.

Humming thoughtfully (ah? Well, now at least the first order made sense; birthday’s _should_ have cake, after all) before shaking his head, the erasure quirk user thanked his lucky stars that _he_ didn’t have to throw himself around like that before picking up the packaging and approaching the boys. “Who’s up for decorating these boxes for me, hmm?”

“Oh~! Oh me~! I’ll help you~!”

“Me too~!”

Smiling, he beckoned them over and set up the stamps, his instructions pouring out of him easily as they all got to work.

As Sunday’s went, this had been a pretty good one, hadn’t it?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wah~! Trying to find out what our favourite cat-dad's treat of choice is was quite... difficult~!
> 
> However, in the Japanese BNHA episodes when they're at the Wild Wild Pussycat's training-camp, as he's walking the "remedial" class back to the learning centre, Denki complains that he had the other's (regardless of failing the exams) deserved a treat too...
> 
> He says he'd _even_ take salty-liquorice...
> 
> Shouta looks at him over his shoulder (he's pulling all of them along with his capture weapons like a posse of naught toddlers) and says "salty liquorice is delicious"~!
> 
> XD
> 
> Umm...
> 
> Spoilers?
> 
> ^_^;;


	17. With luck...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Warnings include: angst, reflections on hero-society, reflections on what it means to be a hero, Shouta is SO DONE with hero bull-shit, swearing and...**
> 
> **Presentation Michael? If you would?**
> 
> **FFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEELLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS~!**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh wow, guys...
> 
> All of you are just so, so beautiful~!
> 
> Thank you for your kind words and support~!
> 
> I love writing and, don't get me wrong, I'd still be typing away regardless **BUT** to have so many of you genuinely having a good time with this fic, well? It makes me truly glad and thankful~!
> 
> On that note, we are **NOWHERE NEAR DONE** I have three, pretty dramatic plot points set out and... because these gorgeous characters keep on feeling, talking and thinking, I haven't even hit one of those points yet~!
> 
> XD

“Whoa, whoa, _whoa_ now… you… you’ve _met_ All Might~?! He was _here_ ~?!”

Leading the first run of adults (ten in total with four of them consisting of the three, local Pros and Inko; Hitoshi and Izuku (after the pair had gushed about their _exciting encounter_ ) were assisting; the iris haired boy’s mother was quietly sat in the café eating a meal and chatting to Dabi), Shouta sighed.

Hadn’t he definitively said, “ _no chit-chat_ ”?

Hmm…

Could he _technically_ expel the starry-eyed people (all just a few months older than him) from his lessons? How would that work? 

It’s not as though he could ban them from the area, was it?

No… that was irrational and, whether he liked it or not, their presence was being noticed by the criminal element that loitered around every other corner and so, for the greater good?

He’d just had to _suffer_ their rapid questions, illogical requests and awkward attempts at (for whatever reason) trying to steal more of his time; _why_ would he ‘ _go out_ ’ and drink alcohol with them when it was _actually_ poison? _When_ would he have time to watch a movie (even if he’d wanted to) other than on a Sunday?

He’d never understand the _socialising_ practises expected of his year group and probably _never_ would…

Hell, _why_ the Pros weren’t content to simply ‘ _hang-out_ ’ at his establishment in the evenings (which they did every other Tuesday, Thursday and Saturday as a group or in a pair) he didn’t know…

Which, in turn, raised his own question whilst he moved the group into stretching their ham-strings, his right brow cocking at the three people a little _too close_ to his personal space…

“Tch, don’t all of you hero-types know each other?” 

Because, out of anyone that the tots had (loudly and proudly) told about their _special-guest_ , he’d not expected Loud Cloud and Present Mic to flail or Midnight to squeal and _nearly_ faint in the same dramatic manner as Izuku…

“ _W-what?!_ ” the costume wearers gawped in unison.

“Surely you’re all, I don’t know? In some kind of syndicate, or something? I mean… it’d be irrational for you all to have separate Agencies that function completely independently when so many criminal organisations operate like businesses with clear lines of communication running from the king-pins at the top down to…” he cut off, his eyes narrowing.

The blonde was gawping at him…

The sun-kissed man looked sheepishly pensive…

Their female associate, however, looked as though someone had just stolen her whip…

“You’re kidding” he deadpanned before dropping into a lower (his left knee touching the floor) lunge, his students yipping and trying to mimic with a few laughing, flailing and retrying whilst his _assistants_ jogged around to aid their balance. Heh, they’d been training with him for a month now and, based on their progress, he was sure that most of them (even Mimi-chan, as she liked to be called, her fifty-eight-year-old form determined) could handle it; anyone who fell down could be helped back up, couldn’t they? 

Although _he_ was struggling not to be floored by the _shambles_ Pro Hero Society seemed to be in…

“ _Why_ aren’t you all talking to each other?”

Because really?

 _Fucking_ really?

“O-oh, ugh, well… you see” Loud Cloud tried, his form a little unsteady, his tongue flicked out to touch his top lip as he concentrated; “we have… you know… intra-nets and… and data-encrypted message boards and the p-police are always…”

“Not having a standard, easy to access form of communication is…”

“ _Irrational~?!_ ” Present Mic cut in with a grin, his brows waggling.

“ **Ridiculous** ” he countered, his head shaking ruefully as he easily returned to a stand ( _“how does he _do_ that~?!_” he heard a few of the older people baulk) before dropping his right knee to the astro-turf; “do you not have a union? _Why_ not have delegates or utilise sidekicks to convene for weekly or monthly meetings?” he pushed. “How do you know that you’re not barging into someone else’s investigation? _Why_ wouldn’t you pool your resources to take down bigger threats? I mean” he tried to laugh (because it was ludicrous); “you’re not _all_ leaving the biggest threats for All Might and the top five Pros to handle, surely?”

Watching as the three paled before their foreheads turned blue, their temples veritably littered with sweat-drops, Shouta pulled himself flawlessly back into a stand (“ _wah~! My legs are burning but I’m **doing it** ~! I’ve never felt more alive~!_”; heh… it was nice to see so many of the forty+ year olds gaining confidence and getting healthier, at least).

He couldn’t help his mouth releasing a sigh at the Pros so shamefacedly standing before him, though...

“ _How_ do all of you function?” he muttered whilst reaching his arms high above his head to wriggle fingers; “is… is this, I don’t know… an ego thing? Do the opinion polls and whom arrests the most villains with the least property damage _really_ matter more than cooperating?” he furthered, the situation _so_ much worse than he’d feared. 

“Is _making money_ and having a fan base truly more important than _working together_?” he asked quietly, his heart dropping a touch.

He didn’t want the children he’d become so fond of entering in for such a lifestyle if that was the case…

“Is _competing_ with each other worth people losing their lives and livelihoods?”

Shit…

When none of them answered, he briefly closed his eyes before leading the group through a repetition of an overhead-triceps stretch, into a double ‘V’ before easing into an upside-down cactus stretch, his head slowly rolling to ease any tension building in their necks and shoulders.

“You know… to hear someone say it out loud it, ugh… doesn’t sound too good, does it?” the bow-staff wielder murmured; “I guess that, umm… we all get caught up in what’s happening within our Agencies’ territories that we… well, _I_ didn’t really think about… all of that” he admitted. “But… sure, it’s not perfect, _we’re_ not perfect… but, we still do good, you know? We still save people?”

“And I’m not debating that” Shouta replied before bringing them all back into their resting positions; “all I’m saying is that, too me? It seems like a wasted effort…”

“H-hey now” Present Mic cut in, his lips turning from a worried pout to a little frown; “you’re not a Pro, you didn’t even attend a hero-course, so…”

“I don’t need to be any of those things to observe your society and see the flaws in it” he countered (but not unkindly; whether he’d liked it or not he’d become… _almost_ fond of the well-meaning, hard working trio); “let me put this another way” he offered before slowly moving into the first kata he’d taught them all. “Let’s imagine that you’re all fire-fighters” he said, his movements graceful and flowing, his head cocking at Hitoshi before gesturing to the middle-aged man who seemed out of puff (the kid skipped to the drinks station for him; heh, such a smart boy).

“ _Umm~!_ I’d love to see _you_ in uniform, Shou-chwan~!” Midnight purred, one of those opal-blue eyes winking at him whilst she licked her lips.

_Ugh…_

“Let’s _also_ imagine that you’ve been sent to a mountain-range dotted with forest fires” he carried on (he’d learned, early on, that ignoring her advances was for the best); “you get there, you tackle the fire that you can see and then what?” he asked. “Do you pack up and go home even though you _know_ there are several other fires elsewhere?” he furthered, his eyes narrowing when the two men went to say something; he wasn’t finished, after all. “Would you yell at other firefighters for trying to help you? Would you allow _other_ firefighters to chase you away? Would you _not_ ask for helicopters, drones and people who can fly to assess the other fires so you could rush to the next one?”

Blinking at him, their eyes widening, the heroes looked to each other, their expressions a little guilty.

“It… It’s not as though _we_ wouldn’t want to work with anyone else” Loud Cloud admitted; “and we don’t keep information to ourselves, it’s just…”

“That the people at the top are stopping you or don’t want to play along? That they’d make it _difficult_ for you?” Shouta quipped, his right leg executing a kick two or three inches _higher_ then what he’d challenged them all to do before; “why should you let that stop you from trying or pushing the issue with other Agency’s in your area?”

“Maa~ Shou~ it’s not _that_ simple” the jade eyed man sighed, his own leg just about hitting the height he’s set, his grin a little strained.

“Of course it is” he snorted; “do you think that I’ve allowed the Starbucks four streets away or the Panda Express ten minutes from here _or_ the McDonalds they’re going to open on the other-side of this apartment complex to stop me from running my business?” he asked. “Sure, I won’t be communicating with them directly and God knows they wouldn’t ask me to collaborate on anything _but_ they could entice my customers away, they could try to bully or intimidate me…” he shrugged. “But that’s not going to stop me from being here and looking after the people who’ve chosen to help and look after me by attending these sessions, eating my food and offering their time on our contacts-board” he stated; “what I want to do is more important than any obstacles in my way…”

“Yeah~! You tell ‘em, Aizawa-san~! But don’t you worry, those franchise punks wouldn’t have the guts to tackle **you** I’m sure” Kōhaku-san, the fish-featured salaryman tittered smugly; “I’d probably feel sorry for them if they tried because you and your café are _far more_ than just a soulless building and an owner that sells good-wares, you know?”

“Maa~ Kōhaku~ we wouldn’t _let_ them try to mess with Aizawa-san, neh~!” his older, balder friend (it was thanks to them that he’d even _thought_ of running an adult class, wasn’t it?) chuckled, his arms confidently following the punching motions with a tenacious grin and strong posture.

“You’re both very kind, thank you” he replied in turn with a short, thankful bow; “now then” he called to the group at large: “today we’re going to practise take-downs, so get into your pairs and threes” he instructed before walking away from the Pros.

Maybe, with any luck, they’d reflect on what he’d said and try to make some changes themselves.

However, if things within the _hero_ community _didn’t_ alter for the better, well?

He’d have to try and prepare his plucky, little study-group for such power-struggles, wouldn’t he?

The next generation, he knew, were very much worth fighting to make such alterations for…

~*~

“This is stupid… you’re an idiot… what _the fuck_ are you doing?”

He’d been stood at his apartment’s door (his keys, wallet and oldest game-controller shoved into the pockets of his over-sized, relatively lightweight hoody; shit… he hated the heat, he _hated_ summer, he should just go back to his room! Why wasn’t he going back to his room?!) for about ten minutes now.

It was 09:37…

It’d take him two bus rides and a ten-minute walk to get to the Noraneko Café…

If he left now, he’d get there for just after 10:00…

Dabi (if that was his real name, if this _wasn’t_ some kind of trick) said it’d be quiet then…

The buses would be relatively quiet now too since the majority of children and adults would have started school and work by now…

And he’d not had breakfast (not through nervousness, not through _anxiety_ , thank you) yet, either…

The images of food that he’d found related to the Noraneko (middle-schoolers and social media went hand in hand, didn’t they?) looked, admittedly, pretty fucking good…

The other teen (if this wasn’t going to be the cluster-fuck he was predicting) had told him all about the dishes he preferred…

Hmm…

He could _really_ go for some tamagoyaki right about now…

Sighing, his eyes screwing shut before they snapped open (he was Shigaraki Tomura, God damn it! He couldn’t, he _wouldn’t_ be thwarted by something so simple as going outside to get something to eat and play a game or two~!), All for One’s secret successor wrenched open the door, walked through it, locked it and stormed towards the nearest stairwell.

“You’ll be in for a fucking _big_ surprise if you’ve tried to trick me, _Dabi_ ” he muttered to himself, the hood of his charcoal-grey sweatshirt disguising his head and shadowing his face before he shoved his hands resolutely into his black jeans’ pockets and stalked out of the fancy, security-guard monitored lobby.

Tch…

This was a mistake…

This was _ridiculous_ …

So why was he already stomping towards the bus-station?

~*~

Diligently wiping down the service-bar before moving onto the smart-till, the café now virtually empty, Shouta found himself humming to the _soft-jazz_ playlist he’d loaded into the sound-system Present Mic and Loud Cloud had linked into the café’s formerly disused speakers…

Mimi-chan and her friends, however, were still happily chatting in the booth furthest away from the door; they’d asked if they could hold their knitting-circle there and he, of course, had granted their request… he might have let slip about a young, pregnant woman who stopped by from time to time who was new to the area, too. For she’d told him, when he’d found her watching his study group, her smile fond despite the tears lacing her lashes, that her fiancée had recently been demoted and she’d had to reduce her shifts at the store she worked at for the baby’s sake…

He’d not related those personal details to the lovely older ladies, of course, _but_ he’d hinted just enough that the group of four women were now diligently creating baby-clothes, blankets and toys for the woman’s infant…

He was to donate them to her, free of charge, on their behalf when the time was right…

 _He_ was hoping, instead, to introduce them all to each other; having four _grandmothers_ on hand for help, advice and support would, surely, be better than a one-time provision of (valuable and adorable) resources, wouldn’t it?

***Ding-ding***

Looking up from where he’d been running a few calculations through the till’s tax-collation systems, Shouta reverted it to ‘ _sales_ ’ mode and regarded the hood-wearing teen who was cautiously looking around the place with a slightly raised brows.

_Oh?_

Could it be?

“Good morning and welcome to the Noraneko Café” he greeted with a little bow; “what can I get you?”

Slowly turning to him, his head still mostly concealed (the eatery owner could just make out a face behind limp, wavy-curls of greyish hair), the younger man (just a few inches shorter than him) let out a huff that sounded too weary for someone of his tender years. “This is a stupid question” the younger man began, his tone quiet and dejected; “but… is Dabi here?”

Feeling a pleased smile spread his lips, the raven-haired man nodded; “he’s expecting you” he told him warmly, his hand gesturing towards the gaming area where, sure enough, his lodger was lounging in one of the beanbag chairs on his break, his lemonade nearly gone and his eyes roving over a health and safety manual he’d insisted on reading.

Heh…

Such a good kid…

“He…” the other almost baulked (oh? Was he just as nervous about this meeting as his employee? It was irrationally cute, wasn’t it?), that covered countenance snapping to the cat-paw dotted area, his form _almost_ uncurling from its stooped posture.

“Would you like anything to eat or drink?” he reminded, his arm then gesturing to the menu overhead; “I’ll bring whatever you like over to you if you’d like to go over and get started on a game?”

“I…” the other swallowed, half of his face (ahh… Dabi had said that his gaming-acquaintance (Tomura?) haD told him that his quirk had affected his body and made it appear _fucked_ ; hmm…) flashing at him bewilderedly before he finally looked up to the food and drink listed on the black chalkboard above him. “Tamagoyaki and… ugh, he says your lemonade is something that I had to try, so…” he hedged uncertainly.

“No problem” he returned mildly; “what syrup would you like? Most people go for mint _but_ I have strawberry, apple and hibiscus” he furthered.

“Hibiscus?” the red-eyed teen murmured; “yeah… yeah I’ll try that, thanks” he nodded before, with a blink, he took in the prices: “ugh… so he wasn’t lying about you potentially going bankrupt, either?”

Snickering despite himself, the action causing the other to relax a little, Shouta shook his head; “bankruptcy is becoming one of his catch-phrases, I’m certain” he explained: “please go and make yourself comfortable” he urged. “I’ll be over with your order in a few minutes” he added, his hands already reaching for the fifth pitcher of lemonade he’d used that day before adding two shots of the syrup he liked to make every other evening, the ingredients left to steep and slow-cook over night so that they were the perfect consistency in the morning.

Then, with the drink made, he hazarded a glance at the first meeting of his young friend and one of the only people he’d been interested in enough to talk to.

With a little more luck, there could be another firm friendship (potentially more (Dabi’s face veritably lit up when he talked to him about this young man) _but_ only time would tell) forming in his cat-themed café, couldn’t there?

~*~

“Umm?”

Blinking (he’d been staring at the same sentence for at least ten minutes _not_ because he was nervous _or_ because he’d convinced himself that Tomura wasn’t coming, thank you), Dabi looked up from the chapter so _creatively_ entitled “Food Hygiene 101” to observe a teenager standing next to the other beanbag.

“Hey” he said, the manual snapping closed; “heh… you weren’t kidding about your face, huh?” he heard himself say, a fierce smile pulling his own, burnt lips.

“You weren’t either” the other blinked, a small chuckle shaking his shoulders; “what happened to you? Were you born in a dumpster fire, or something?”

“Tch, that’s better than being a living ash-pile” he countered, his laugh a little louder this time; “you gonna sit down and show me that secret level, or what?”

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you, you little shit?” the slightly shorter male snorted; “well, there’s turning back now, I guess” he huffed whilst shoving his hood away and slumping, with a sigh, into the beanbag opposite the other sixteen-year-old: “I can’t believe that I’m here” he told him offhandedly.

“Yeah? You disappointed that this _isn’t_ a fetish dungeon?” he asked, the nervous tension well and truly gone as amused crimson met mirth-glazed turquoise.

“I knew you were a perv” the paler of the pair quipped, his eyes rolling before he carefully pulled out his controller and waved it at him; “now shut up and load the game already.”

Sniggering, Dabi pulled himself into a stand so he could approach the modest set-up, his hands reaching to switch on the TV and the console housed in a shelf just beneath it; “hmm, you call _me_ a perv _but_ you’re the one who’s staring at me right now, aren’t you?”

“Tch, the back of your t-shirt’s got a cat on it, that’s all” his fellow gamer quipped before folding his arms and resolutely looking away, one of the framed kitten photos suddenly _very_ interesting.

Smirking from where he was still observing the other over his dove-grey coloured shoulder (heh, they matched in terms of colours scheme, what were the odds?), the flame quirk user couldn’t help the flood of relief that filled him.

As wrong as it was… to know that there was someone _just_ as fucked up as him he could see and talk to, it…

Well?

Misery loved company, didn’t it?

“T-thanks… for, you know, inviting me and being, ugh… real? I guess?”

Blinking, his shocked face softening slightly, Dabi allowed a quiet, genuinely pleased sound to escape him.

“Thank you for coming” he breathed, his attention returning to the screen whilst he changed the HDMI settings.

Maybe…

With a little luck…

“1000 yen says that this secret-level you can’t shut up about _sucks_ , though~!”

Neither of them would have to _stay_ miserable for long?


	18. Reflections...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Warnings include: angst, reflections on bullying/self-image and self-esteem issues, reflections on poverty, awkward flirting, awkward conversations, awkward teenagers with awkward teenage feelings and trauma, swearing and...**
> 
> **FFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEELLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS~!!**
> 
> Also...
> 
> **Manga spoilers; please DON’T read the “end-notes” if you DON’T want to know Horikoshi-sama’s canonical back-story for Dabi/Touya~! Just know that MY sweet, lil Dabi-kins is NOT compliant with this canon (with respect) BS~!**

The next week flew by with its usual span of hijinks (both ‘ _Baku-squad_ ’ (as Denki had dubbed himself, Eijiro and Katsuki) related and otherwise), Tomura being _officially_ adopted as another nii-san (heh, the look on the teen’s face when Izuku had bounded over to him, praised his look and _begged_ to learn about his quirk had been _priceless_ ) and happy customers…

“Wah~! Tomu-nii~! Watch out for that necro-manster~!”

Hitoshi’s extra-credit report had earned him not only an A+ (both the child and his mother had asked for him to frame it and display it on the well next to his “contacts and connections” board; he’d not felt tearful at all, no, that would have been _illogical_ : he couldn’t deny the pride he’d felt, though) _but_ a place on the field-trip to Tokyo, too…

“Heh… that’s _necromancer_ , Ocha-chan…”

Tsuyu was becoming confident in herself and more accepting of her frog-based mutations; she no longer tried to hide her tongue or force her body into a, what she’d once tearfully explained to him, _normal_ posture.

He’d told her that in a world filled with individuals, even before the days of quirks, there was so no such thing as _**normal**_ and that being comfortable in your own skin and trying your best to only listen to the words of family, friends and people who loved you and _not_ people looking to be cruel was the best way to live.

He knew from his own, bitter experience that it was hard to do, however, her eyes had widened, a quietly thoughtful “ _kero_ ” leaving her lips before she’d asked for a hug (which he’d given) and thanked him for his advice.

The embrace she’d been wrapped in by the other children (even Katsuki had patted her shoulder; “ _tch, anyone who picks on you for what you look like is _clearly_ missing brain-cells, just smack them with your tongue or tell me who they are and I’ll punch ‘em for you_”: heh, he’d had to nix the violence, but he’d praised the sentiment behind it) that afternoon was a beautiful thing to see…

“Maa~ ahahaa… I knew I’d get it wrong, sorry~! I don’t mean to distract you guys~”

Denki and Eijiro were starting to make real progress in their studies, too; now, at 18:00, Dabi had kindly offered to man the service bar exclusively (he’d grown so much faster at taking and making orders; he’d asked to have some cooking lessons on Sunday’s as well, which he’d happily supply) whilst he sat with them in the study area and tutored them.

Kirishima-san, _just_ as strong as her child, had hugged him so tightly he thought that his ribs had cracked when her little boy (whom she worked so hard for and desperately tried to spend time with but, as a single parent making her way up the ‘ _Corporate_ ’ ladder, it was difficult) had come home with a report-card _full_ of good grades and commentary from his teachers…

Kaminari-san had, equally, encroached upon his personal space, her lovely face flooded with tears whilst she demanded that he “ _shut up and take this 5000 yen gift-card~!_ ” as the boy’s father (the spit of him only older and with a goatee) had shed his own tears and _begged_ that he “ _keep up the good-work, you know~?!_ ” 

Heh…

It was the kids, surely, who deserved the praise, wasn’t it?

They were the ones taking his advice and suggestions to heart and applying them, after all…

“Tch, you’re not a distraction… you got good eyes, kid… watch that corner for us while we clear up these Archmagis scum-bags, alright?” 

Izuku, too, was flourishing; he’d even started joining him for his early morning runs, his little mind determined to become “ _just as strong as you, Aizawa-san~!_ ” as he tried to keep up and pouted at him (it was _irrationally_ adorable) when he slowed down to accommodate those little legs of his…

“Ahh~! You mean it~ wah~ I’ll keep watch, don’t you worry, Dabi-nii~”

Katsuki was, similarly, making great progress both physically and mentally; in the quiet of one afternoon, when the other kids were designing hero costumes together, he’d approached him and asked if _he_ could join the morning runs, too.

He and Izuku, although things weren’t perfect since the blonde would still snap every so often (“ _ugh! Come on~! Keep up~! You don’t need a quirk to run fast~! Yeah! That’s it! Get mad and chase me, Deku!_ ”) had reached a kind of understanding. The older boy’s tone wasn’t as bitterly angry now and the yells (which he was slowly but surely helping him to curb) were of a more… _encouraging_ , quieter nature.

Sure, it wasn’t ideal; however, things were far better than what they were.

Inko, after the boys had completed their work-out, was then kind enough to see them both get washed, dressed in their school uniforms and sent back to him for breakfast before they walked to school (the elementary educational institutions they attended were different _but_ in the same direction) with Hitoshi. The iris haired boy (similarly looking to push himself) was starting to join them, in the mornings, too.

“O-oh~! There’s a werewolf~!”

Then there was Uraraka Ochaco whose perpetual blush and bright smile disguised the true pain she felt; never one to complain or share her worries with her peers, he’d been decidedly pleased to see the older teens genuinely including her in their games. For, since she often finished her homework faster than the other students (she was so bright and determined to get a good, well-paying job to help her family; sweet girl) she’d, quite shyly, asked them if she could watch them play on Tuesday. He’d watched, his hands pouring fresh coffee into a relieved group of salarywomen’s drained mugs, as Dabi had blinked, hummed, sat her down on the beanbag, crouched beside her and guided her through the quest alongside a grinning Tomura, herself.

Tch, such a good kid…

“Hah~! I’d never have seen that pri— ugh, _stupid wolf_ come at me, thanks…”

Since then, the older boys had included her in their fun (and the other kids’ too; he’d had to redirect Denki and Eijiro’s attention to their work a few times and rewarded them with chocolate-chip cookies when they settled; heh, who knew that videogames were more exciting than math?) and some of her worries had dropped away.

He wouldn’t have realised the true extent of the weight upon her tiny shoulders if it hadn’t been for her father coming by a week or so back to apologise and ask if he could start a tab and pay him back later for the food and self-defence lessons.

He’d waved the idea of a tab off and told him that Ochaco would always be welcome there and, if the time came when they could afford to pay the fees ever arose, then he wouldn’t expect any back-payments either. “ _O-oh… Aizawa-san, thank you_ ” the dusky-blonde had said, his tone tremoring. “ _She… she loves coming here and, well, my construction company went bust a few years ago and… heh, shifts at the 7-11 just about pay our bills, rent and my wife’s hospital visits… Ha-ha… ah…_ ”.

He would have offered the man a job at the café, of course; however, with the brunette’s mother being ill “ _it’s nothing… terminal, but she struggles and the medicine is… expensive_ ” working the grave-yard shift was his only option as he helped to support his beloved wife throughout the day.

He couldn’t imagine what’d it be like to have someone you love slowly but surely deteriorating with a child forced to watch and endure, her bubbly personality and hard-working attitude stemming from her desire to help the two people who’d given her life.

Shit…

Bad things happening to good people was yet _another_ irrational thing he hated about this world…

And something he could do fuck-all about…

“Yay~! Tomu-nii~ you did it~!”

Grinning, his hands swiftly and effectively wiping down the last table, he then grabbed the tray of dirty dishes that’d need washing and made his way back to the service area.

As Friday evening bled into Friday night, he’d have to start thinking about All Might’s birthday order for next week and how best to cool down the marquee now that June’s heat was mounting.

All in all, there were _worse_ things to have to worry about…

~*~

Saturdays (and he couldn’t believe that he was _pleased_ by this) were so much calmer than weekdays; not that they weren’t busy _but_ the morning rush was more sedate, lunch-times more popular and evenings a gentle thrum of weekday customers mixed in with their friends, family and some University students in need of a de-stress.

God…

He couldn’t believe that after six, going on for seven weeks of trading, he’d exceeded even his most _outlandish_ profit forecasts and, even better? People weren’t just rushing in and rushing out.

No, the community he’d hoped to see was, very definitely, taking shape.

Similarly, the residents of the apartment block seemed a little less grey, a little less dejected; Mimi-chan and _the girls_ had even started to add flowers, herbs and vegetables to the (previously empty, cigarette-butt filled) large, industrial-cement planters that dotted the complexes’ courtyards.

Damn, but it felt good to see so much positive change in such a short amount of time…

“Wah~! You’re going to Tokyo Summerland~! Wow~!”

It was approaching 12:00 and Mitsuki, along with Eijiro and Denki’s mothers, had brought their sons to the café for lunch (all of the children, except Ochaco and Tsuyu who lived a little further away and were needed to help out at home; they’d be back here on Sunday for their self-defence lesson though were similarly there to eat). Then, if the squeals were anything to go by, they’d all be heading off to spend the hot afternoon at the amusement park (“ _I’m gonna ride the water-slides until I grow gills~!_ ”), together…

Poor Izuku and Hitoshi (regardless of their cheers for the preening, clearly ecstatic boys) wouldn’t get to enjoy such a thing, though…

Even if they could afford the (in his eyes _ridiculous_ ) price, their mothers wouldn’t be able to take them…

Inko was working more Saturday’s these days (there were redundancies plaguing the office she worked in; she had little choice but to show her willingness to keep her job) and Shinsou Kimiko, of course, was either too busy or too tired…

Hmm…

“Dabi?” he said, his employee (sans Tomura; he’d be coming by later on in the afternoon) looking to him from where he was stood beside him behind the service bar, the air-con blessedly wafting over them as they cleaned mugs.

“Yeah?”

“D’you mind holding the fort while I make some calls?”

“Tch, _mind_ he says” the teen chuckled; “it’s what you pay me for, isn’t it?” he grinned whilst giving him a playful shove: “take your time and hey? While you’re doing that, why not do something _crazy_ like sitting down and having a drink… or don’t robots need to do that?”

Snickering, a hand rubbing through the other’s hair before he went, Shouta shoved the fire-door open and stepped into his _equally_ air-conditioned kitchen (God; he couldn’t be doing without it if the summer heat kept building; he had a feeling that just selling icecream wouldn’t pay the bills so he’d need to keep baking), his cellphone in hand.

“Mushi-mushi? Kohaku-san speaking…”

“Kohaku-san” he breathed into the receiver (the other’s fish-featured countenance coming to mind as he started to make notes on one of his notepads because tablets were an unnecessary and expense); “this is Aizawa…”

“ _Aizawa-kun~!_ Hello~!” the man (a city-planner, of all things, and someone who had his fingers in a lot of Musutafu-pies due to his years of experience; he’d downsized and gone part-time after the death of his wife, poor man); “how can I help you?”

“I was hoping to get some advice, if you have a few minutes to talk?”

“Tch, _of course_ I have a few minutes for you, my friend~!” the older man chuckled; “so, what do you need?”

~*~

Standing in one of the quieter Malls (not that he particularly minded; he’d been on his way to the Noraneko anyway so Dabi texting to meet him here wasn’t such a big deal), his hood hiding his features (which he didn’t have to do in the café; it was… freeing) as he stood by a closed-down shop, Tomura hummed to the ambient music echoing around the large structure.

He didn’t usually come to discount outlets _but_ , looking around, he was quite pleased that he had; the latest RPG from his favourite company was being released soon and he was hoping, if Aizawa-san okayed it, to bring one his better consoles to the café for them to use so he and his friend (heh; who’d have thought?) could play it through.

In fact, he’d even pawn it off on (possibly the nicest and _somehow_ coolest adult he’d ever met) so anyone else could use it, too… for what did it matter if it broke? He could buy more _especially_ since the dark-haired man _kept_ rejecting the tips he tried to give (the flame quirk user was right, the well-meaning idiot should be charging double the prices for his (admittedly amazing) food) him.

Heh…

To think that there were still _actual_ , good people in this lousy world…

It…

The existence of Aizawa and what he was trying to do, it…

It was making him question, to some extent, his resolve…

Sensei would be furious if he ever found out, wouldn’t he?

Maybe he should start being more careful about the route he took to the café?

Hmm…

“Hey.”

Blinking out of his thoughts, Tomura felt his lips pull into a smile despite himself as he watched Dabi (similarly wearing a hood attached to a long, light-weight coat that had many admiring eyes following him; heh, the handsome, smug prick knew _exactly_ what he was doing, didn’t he?) make his approach.

“We’re not on a date or something, are we?” he joked, a flash of teeth following his words because snarky-banter was a _must_ by now.

Even if a little part of him, a _stupid_ part of him, may have been hoping for a little more…

“Tch, don’t be stupid” the flame-quirk user huffed as he stood before him (yeah, he knew it was stupid thing to say, _thank you_ ), his right brow cocking; “when we go on a date, it’ll be somewhere better than this” he furthered breezily, his smirk shit-eating.

Wait…

 _What_?!

“Heh, careful” he tried to chuckle (shit, _shit_! He wasn’t blushing, was he?); “I’ll start thinking that you’re serious…”

“I _am_ being serous” the taller man returned with a light shrug, his own chuckle leaving him as he rubbed the back of his neck a little sheepishly; “it’d be _irrational_ not to be, right?”

“I… you… that’s” he tried, his brows reaching for his hairline; “you’re _fucking_ with me, right?”

“Hm? Yeah, well… if you say so” the other mused; “but… I get it, ugh… let’s… let’s talk about it later, alright?” he furthered a little awkwardly, both of them now sporting red across their cheeks: “we… we’ve got a job to do…”

“A _job_?” Tomura breathed whilst trying to shake off the weird, tightening in his chest; “what? We gonna rob the place because cat-dad has _finally_ gone bankrupt, or something?” he tried because he _needed_ a distraction…

He needed to think…

 _Fuck_ ~!

Dabi liked him?

Liked him, _liked him_?!

Shit…

 _Shit_!

It wasn’t possible…

Was it?

“Heh… nothing as fun or entertaining, I’m afraid” the turquoise eyed teen grinned, his head inclining them towards the Mall proper; “we got some shit to buy” he revealed, a true smile pulling his lips: “and you’re not gonna believe it until I show you…”

~*~

Closing up the café for the night (he’d just waved off Loud Cloud and Present Mic, the pair all smiles as they took his last few slices of cotton-cheese cake packed up to share at the meeting they’d arranged with a neighbouring Agency; heh, small mercies), Shouta let out a pleased sigh before setting the alarm and making his way into the kitchen.

A kitchen where, his evening meal barely touched, Dabi sat upon his stool, his eyes glued to his phone.

Hmm…

“You okay?” he asked, his hands unknotting the apron wrapped about his waist before he walked to throw it into the washing machine along with his cap.

Sighing, the scarred teen shrugged a little; “I’m… tch, it’s stupid” he muttered.

Blinking, the older man leaned his hip against the workbench, his right brow cocked; “it can’t be stupid if it’s something important to you” he said: “do… can I help?”

“I…” the younger tired, their eyes locking; “I… I think I _like_ Tomura he… he’s funny and he gets me and we’re both, well, you know” he breathed, a bitter little laugh leaving him: “so not only am I gay _but_ I’m a disaster” he huffed. “I mean… look at me? And then there’s his quirk and how he feels about touching things and touching people and _being_ touched and I… I did something stupid today and now… heh… he probably won’t come back to the—”

“Whoa, _whoa_ ” his employer cut in, a fatherly hand tentatively cupping his shoulder; “slow down and take a breath, alright?” he pushed, a worried frown marring his lips.

He’d noticed, of course, how the pair had been a little… sheepish around each other when they’d come back from the errand he’d asked his employee (and by extension the teen he’d developed such a close-bond with over the past three weeks of online and offline contact) to run.

Their conversation had seemed a little off, their eyes finding _anything_ else to look at…

“Now listen” he said gently; “I’m not the best person to give advice in this area” he admitted lightly: “hell, one of the only people I’d call a friend back in High School told me I was _terminally_ single because I didn’t notice flirting _or_ accept advances, tch, whatever that means” he chuckled. “And, in all honesty? I’ve usually been too busy to think about establishing something as… time-consuming as a romance with anyone” he mused. “But… I think I’m pretty good at reading people” he reasoned; “and… based on how much the pair of you have been smiling lately, I don’t think that you’ve got anything to worry about…”

“ _W-what?_ ”

“Heh, and people call _me_ oblivious” he grinned, his lips pulling into a smile when the teen laughed and moved his own hand to squeeze the one he’d placed on the teen’s shoulder.

“Tch, that’s because you _totally_ are~!” he snickered; “I can probably count _at least_ ten people who are pining after you, Shou” he added, his mood brightening.

Heh…

 _Good_.

“That’s an irrational estimation” he countered with a deadpan he was trying to maintain regardless of the smile trying to steal his face; “but, getting back to the matter at hand” he said: “I genuinely think you’re over-thinking this” he advised. “When he left tonight he said, and I quote, “ _I’ll see you tomorrow, cat-dad_ ” so, to me? That means that he’s at least coming by to make a fuss of Izuku and the others if nothing else” he reminded; “but, if you’re that worried? Talk to him tomorrow” he said. “You’ll have the café to yourselves and, on the odd chance I’m wrong and he _does_ reject your feelings, well? I’ll cup his face with two slices of bread and make him an idiot sandwich.”

“Y-you’ll, you’ll _what_?” Dabi laughed, his head shaking in disbelief.

“Or, since it’s so hot these days I could be _merciful_ and turn him into an idiot-sundae, I suppose” he stated, his arms folding in finality whilst the younger man tittered; “like it or not, you’re family now, kid” he told him, their eyes locking: “and no one messes with my family, alright?”

Sucking in a breath, his body standing, Dabi wrapped him in a hug that he happily reciprocated; “tch, and you’d really do that for me too, wouldn’t you? You crazy not so old guy?”

“In a heartbeat” he returned as they pulled away from each other; “however… I think it’s more likely that I’ll be giving you away at your wedding and making him my officially unofficial son-in-law…”

“Y-you _what_ ~?!” 

“We can hold the reception here, of course” he furthered, his tone completely serious whilst the teen dissolved into peels of laughter; “it’s only practical, after all, isn’t it?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apparently, Touya became obsessed with training/beating All Might (and probably (DEFINITELY) went down this road to get his DICKHEAD father’s attention) but he kept burning himself to the point where Endeavour told him to stop/he’d “never” be good enough/allegedly didn’t want him to hurt himself… (ppffftttt… yeah, okay, _apparently_ Endeavour isn’t a COMPLETE dumpster-fire… _sure…_ )...
> 
> This leads Touya to become more obsessed/he tries to injure baby-Shouto in a jealous rage…
> 
> No… sorry, no… I can’t have that… that’s not the background of _my_ Dabi-kins, okay?


	19. Making a Splash...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Warnings include: a smidge of angst, adorable children worrying, swearing and FFFFFFFFFFFFFFEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEELLLLLLLLLLLLLLSSSSSSSSSSSSS~!**

At first, when his mom had woken him and told him that the self-defence lesson had had to be postponed, he’d been worried…

“Huh? Why? _What’s happened_?! Is Aizawa-san okay?! Did someone attack the café?! Is he sick?! Is Dabi-nii okay?!”

His mother, much to his dismay, had had to block the doorway as she promised that the kindly man and his employee were fine, her smile strained in a way that suggested she was trying to keep something from him…

“Guys?! What’s goin on?” Eijiro had text not even a few minutes later; apparently, all of their parents had been contacted.

All of them were, similarly, tight-lipped about the situation, too…

“Deku?! You and Hitoshi live like two minutes away~!” Kaachan reminded, all of them now throwing their worries and ideas into a group-chat; “get your ass down there and see what’s happening~!”

“My mom’s locked the door” he typed back with a sad and worried face emoji; “she says that everything’s okay and that we’re going to the café at lunch-time…”

“My dad’s going to take me, too~!” Ochaco commented.

“Yeah, my mom said we were going at 12:00” Denki added; “they showed me a text from Aizawa-san, so I know it’s legit…”

“the hell~!” Katsuki typed before we went offline.

Hmm…

“I wonder what’s going on” Tsuyu typed; “maybe some of their kitchen equipment broke, or something?”

“I hope not” Hitoshi wrote, a sad emoji appearing; “that kind of stuff is SUPER expensive… what if he has to close?”

“I think we’re all getting a little ahead of ourselves…”

“HE CAN’T CLOSE THE NORANEKO~!!” Eijiro virtually yelled; “I’LL GET MY MOM TO LOAN HIM SOME MONEY~!”

Blinking, a shock of worry (and fear; he… he couldn’t bear the thought himself) running through him, Izuku watched as the chat grew more and more concerned, his eyes tearing.

What…

What would they do if the café closed?

If Aizawa-san moved away?

He…

“tch, everyone calm the hell down~!”

Gasping, his hands bringing the phone closer to his face, he heard himself whisper a hopeful “Kaachan?”

“the hag’s told me what’s going on” he told them; “just get to the café at 12:00 and look happy, okay? Aizawa-san’s gone to A LOT of trouble and it’s meant to be a surprise, a GOOD one… so shut up and have your breakfasts and don’t yell at your folks cus they’ve helped, too…”

Then, he was offline again.

“Umm?” Hitoshi typed; “well, it is Bakugo” he furthered: “he’s loud BUT he doesn’t lie” he reasoned.

Nodding (despite no one being able to see him), Izuku rubbed at his eyes and sniffed back his sadness.

“See you all at 12:00, then?” Denki asked.

“I’ll be there~!”

“Kero~!”

“Wah~! Kaachan’s TOO MANLY to let us down~! I’ll be there~!”

“Izu, walk down with me, yeah?”

“You got it, Toshi” he replied to the boy who only lived a block away, his shoulders relaxing as he put down his phone, sighed and looked out of the window to see another flawless, azure sky.

Surely nothing bad could happen on a day like today, right?

~*~

Checking everything over, his eyes casting a critical glance at his reflection in his café’s window to regard the pink-boardshorts Dabi had gotten him (“ _what? You wear too much black _and_ there are lots of different coloured chibi-cats wearing snorkels and rubber-rings all over it so it’s café _branding_ right?_” Tch, the little shit) Shouta hummed.

It wasn’t that he didn’t think they were cute (because they were) and God knew he didn’t care what people thought it was just that these must have been quite pricey (he and Tomura had, apparently, bought them for him with a less conspicuous white t-shirt sporting just one of the adorable, anime felines), that’s all.

However, he didn’t have time to muse about such things; it was 11:47 and soon, very soon, his little study group would arrive in swim-suits or clothes that their care-givers wouldn’t care about them getting soaked to (hopefully) enjoy the four paddling-pools, baskets of water-balloons, inflatable floaty-toys and little water pistols he’d set up on the astro-turf.

The astro-turf they’d all have to promise to stay on so that, if anyone tripped or fell (because they wouldn’t slip on the absorbent surface, he’d tested it himself) then they wouldn’t hurt themselves.

Oh yes, based on everything Kohaku-san had advised him of (getting the parents consent via text, having many of them there to chaperone and putting the tables and chairs with umbrellas out for them to sit in with factor 40 sunscreen in ample supply) he’d covered all of his (moral and legal) bases, hadn’t he?

Because sure, this wasn’t a water-park _but_ the set up should give them all some fun, shouldn’t it?

Furthermore, he’d made additional batches of lemonade (all of the parents had insisted that they’d be paying for drinks; heh, it wasn’t necessary but still, a nice gesture that he wouldn’t turn down: Mitsuki, Kaminari-san and Kirishima-san had also insisted in paying for the various items his employee and Tomura had picked out), so staying hydrated would be easy.

Hmm…

“Holy-shit, man…”

Blinking, his head inclining towards (heh, the kid looked sweltering; he probably wouldn’t be able to persuade him or Dabi to join the _activities_ he’d had planned, though) his employee’s crush, Shouta chuckled; “d’you think they’ll like it?”

“Tch, if they don’t then they’re spoilt brats of the highest order” the sixteen-year-old shrugged before amused, crimson eyes met his; “I can’t _believe_ that you’re wearing those” he chuckled: “you look…”

“Stupid?”

“Really fucking cool, actually” the younger praised, his smile genuine and endearing; “but do me a favour and keep your shirt on, alright?” he asked before shuffling his canvas-high-topped feet away from the area he’d been setting up all morning and approaching the door.

“Heh, I’m wearing sunscreen…”

“Tch, not what I meant, cat-dad” the paler man smirked; “me and Dabi want to play through a new game so if we have to pause it to come outside and chase off the pervs that’ll flock around you then we’ll be real pissed off, you know?” he chuckled. “Pretty sure your boy would set fire to anyone he saw trying to get fresh” he mused thoughtfully; “someone as clueless as you needs people looking out for him, after all, right?”

Baulking (because that was such a strange thing to say; men walked around topless all the time in weather like this and weren’t, according to any crime statistics he’d read, usually sexually harassed for it), the erasure quirk wielder snorted out a “if you say so” before; “umm… I hope I’m not over-stepping here” he said. “But… I’ve got and, ugh, _made_ you a few things…”

“W-What?”

“He’ll show you everything and talk you through them, alright?” he grinned; “have them, don’t have them, that’s fine” he shrugged: “I just thought that they’d be useful and no, before you say it, they’re _gifts_ ” he stressed. “Anything you want to have and use is yours, alright?”

Watching as the other blinked at him owlishly before slowly nodding, he gestured for the boy to go inside whilst he approached the water-hoses he’d attached to widest outer wall of his establishment, his hands tightening the different spray-nozzles before giving them a test.

Heh…

It wasn’t anything to write home about _but_ everything had been pretty easy to rig up and, if they enjoyed themselves today, then they could do this every other Sunday when it was hot, couldn’t they?

~*~

Diligently sticking to his mother’s side with Hitoshi (even though _both_ were itching to run to the café), Izuku had eyed the beach-bag she’d carried and, listening to the way in which she’d _carefully_ dodged their questions, had caused both boys to pout…

 _However_ …

“Oh~! My~! Gosh~!”

As they left the apartment’s lobby, their eyes widening, the boys threw their hands up in the air to madly wave back at Eijiro and Denki, their smile exuberant as they squealed at them to “ _get over here already~!_ ”

Not needing to be told twice, his mother’s laughter like sweet music in the background, the two friends launched themselves towards the astro-turfed area, both calling out pleased “hi Kaminari-san~! Kirishima-san~!” before rounding to the pools, their eyes looking from them to the four water-hoses spurting out sprays of deliciously cool water.

Aizawa-san had _made_ them their own water-park~?!

“Wah~! Aizawa-san~! Thank you~! This is _**amazing~!**_ ” they cried as they rounded him, their little forms grabbing his legs for a quick hug before they joined their friends…

Their friends who were grinning madly and sharing sneaky glances before; “ha~! Got’ya~!”

Howling out his laughter, Izuku danced away from the harmless jet of water that the raven-haired boy had aimed at him, his giggles rushing out of him before he picked up his own (green, his favourite colour; all of the little pistols were in their favourite shades, wow~!) pistol and fired back.

Hitoshi, however, had merely stood with his arms wide open as Denki, his laughter lyrical, soaked him, his smile relieved.

Heh…

It was pretty hot, after all~!

“Kero~!”

Blinking, both he and the sharp-toothed boy calling a cease-fire, they waved happily at Tsuyu as she bonded towards them from the sidewalk, her father calling for her to be “ _careful sweetheart~! Don’t go knocking anyone over~!_ ” before she leapt into the air and dived, her flip-flops abandoned mid-flight, into the largest of the four pools.

“ _Wwwaaahhhhh~!_ ” the boys called as a wave of refreshingly pleasant water cascaded out to soak them, their laughter filling the air as they piled into the fish-accented inflatable to engage in a playful game of splashing whilst their parents cooed, took photos and lounged in the café chairs under the shade of large umbrellas.

As surprises went…

This was a pretty amazing one…

~*~

“This was such a lovely idea~!”

Smiling at Mitsuki as he handed her a drink, Shouta cast his eyes over the seven children approvingly; Ochaco and Hitoshi were blissed out in the smallest pool (that was shaded with one of the large umbrellas, the pair quietly chatting) whilst the other five were playing their own version of water-volleyball with a delighted Inko keeping score.

All of the tots had equally marvelled at her quirk being able to get the ball for them, too; Katuski and Eijiro’s _enthusiastic_ hitting, punching and spiking of the ball was definitely keeping her on her toes.

It was wonderful to see her laughing and smiling, the stress he usually saw in her shoulders expelled for now.

Some of the other mothers, however, had found another sport to occupy their time…

“Hmm… aren’t you going to get in for a paddle too, Shou-kun?” the boisterous blonde teased, her brows waggling whilst her three new best-friends tittered and looked him up and down; “we’d help to get you out of your wet clothes, you know~!”

“Wah~! Mitsuki-chan~! You’re a married woman~!” Denki’s mother giggled girlishly whilst he struggled _not_ to roll his eyes, his form choosing to walk away without comment as he approached the table which housed Ochaco’s parents (“ _ahh~! This is so refreshing, thank you_ ”) and Tsuyu’s father, the three merrily chatting about their daughters.

“This is really, very generous, Aizawa-kun” the toad-quirked male stated fondly whilst he gratefully accepted a glass of lemonade, his hanky dabbing at his forehead before he took a long gulp or two.

“They’ve been working hard” he shrugged; “and this was an easy enough treat to make for them” he furthered nonchalantly, his expression softly pleased: “there’s really nothing around here for them to do in this heat, is there?”

“Maa-maa~ the next thing we know you’ll be changing that for the better, won’t you?” the brunette’s mother smiled at him; “if I ever win the lottery, Aizawa-kun, I’d fund you to make all kinds of changes for our little ones” she told him, her sweet smile just as radiant as her daughter’s.

Feeling his cheeks heat a little at the offer and praise (what he was doing wasn’t _so_ life changing, after all), Shouta had been about to say something when…

“ _Whoa~!!_ ”

Tch, _why_ was he not surprised?

“Ahh~! It’s Loud Cloud, Present Mic and Midnight~! Hey~ you guys wanna join us for a water-fight?!”

Because yes, _of course_ it was…

Why _wouldn’t_ they be here?

Hell, why wasn’t All Might crashing in with Sir Nighteye and his sidekicks in tow, too?

“Wah~! Shou-chan~! You look _so cute~!!_ ”

God…

As if he didn’t have enough female attention to deal with right now…

“Wow~! This is _so_ cool~! You don’t mind if we crash the party, right~!?” Loud Cloud grinned whilst he and his other friends slapped their hands together as though they were praying, their expressions sporting what he supposed was the (allegedly) infamous ‘ _puppy-dog-eyes_ ’, or something.

Tch…

Irrational though it was, he guessed that such a pleading, innocent look could be considered… _cute_.

Then, looking back to the children, he saw that same, curious pulling of features and pouting of mouths across all of their faces; damn everything, even Izuku’s mother was quivering her bottom lip.

Letting out a sigh, his expression softening despite himself, Shouta shook his head ruefully (how could he send them away now?) at the trio before waving his hand across the pools and baskets of (strangely still untouched; heh, he _had_ given them a safety-lecture) water balloons. “Fine” he grinned; “but no quirks outside of his clouds for shade and _no_ running with wet feet on the concrete” he told them.

When the trio “whooped” alongside the children, he told them to “put anything breakable or electronic on that table… I’ll go get you all a drink” before making his way back towards the café’s entrance whilst the Pros swiftly stripped off their jackets, tops (thank _God_ Midnight had a sports-bra on; tch, R-Rated indeed) phones and shoes. Once done, they tumbled with delighted screams into the third, unoccupied pool to make a big splash; then resurfacing amidst pleased, relieved chuckles, they shared sneaky glances before their hands reached for some of the brightly-coloured plastic water-bombs and playfully launched them at the squealing (roaring in the case of Katsuki) children.

Heh…

At the sound of raucous laughter from across the three generations of people (the parents were taking a flurry of photographs on their phones as Inko floated the filled balloons across the bodies of water for everyone to snag and throw with Mitsuki, Tsuyu’s father and Ochaco with Hitoshi joining in) filling the air, he couldn’t help his smile growing despite himself.

This had been a really good idea, hadn’t it?

~*~

Walking into the (ahh~ God bless whomever came up with climate-control) café proper, Shouta had expected to see the teens playing on the games console…

“Hey, is everything… _ah_?”

Finding Tomura waiting for him by Dabi’s favourite booth, the flame quirk user sat comfortably upon the padded the bench, his smile soft, _hadn’t_ been something he’d anticipated…

“T-thank you.”

The hug he’d been pulled into was, similarly, a surprise…

“Oh, ugh… you’re welcome” he replied, his arms returning the gesture as he brought the younger man into his chest, his gaze briefly locking with the darker haired boy who let out a quiet, fond huff.

“You always look so surprised when you’re thanked for things” he muttered whilst slipping out of the bench to walk past them; “I’ll get those loud-mouths a drink while you two talk, alright?” he said before making his way into the service-area and through to the kitchen.

Nodding after him, Shouta allowed the shorter teen (heh, he remembered being his height at that age) to pull away, his eyes clocking the soft, usefully thin, black, quirk-dampening gloves he’d asked Dabi to pass onto him; he could also scent the lotion he’d mixed to help ease the cracking and chafing of the other’s pale, broken skin.

“So… you wanted to talk?” he asked quietly.

Carefully meeting his gaze, Tomura nodded.

Looking at him, he could see where he’d applied the homemade salve (the flesh seemed smoother and softer) of coconut-oil, camomile and aloe; it was a simple concoction he’d made for the youngest boy he’d looked after at the care-centre, little Naoki, his body covered in skin closer to old, knotty tree-bark than anything else. 

God, he remembered long nights holding him as he’d cried and scratched at the woody tightness his quirk had wrapped him in; since Itsu (the drunken, unfeeling mess that she was) only told him to “ _scrub that mess harder in the bath, you little idiot_ ” he’d researched a remedy himself at his middle-school’s library. The balm he’d found a recipe for was blessedly cheap to make and, after he’d sneaked yen from the care-centre manager’s purse while she’d been passed out one evening, he bought the ingredients and made a batch with the other three boys assisting.

Luckily, it not only did the trick (“ _wow~! Shou-nii~! T-that feels so nice~!_ ”) but it smelt like summer, stored well in jars and didn’t cost even a fraction of the expensive moisturisers he’d been tempted to buy for the child so neglected by that fiendish bat of a woman.

Heh…

He couldn’t wait for Naoki and the others to visit him in July…

However, he had other boys to think about for the moment, didn’t he?

“Let’s sit down then, alright?” 

Gesturing for them to slip into the booth, they waited for the taller teen (three lemonades on a tray in hand) to return to the café-proper before exiting out and into the sunshine.

Sounds of the children, Pros and other adults laughing wafted into cool, quiet of his establishment with some of the summer heat as he went…

“I… I had no idea that you could, you know… _buy_ things like this” the decay quirk user murmured, his hands flexing inside the glossy-black, comfortable material.

The same material that made up the gloves he’d gifted to Katsuki so he could spar with the other kids without worrying that his sweat would ignite and hurt someone.

On reflection, he should have offered some to the kid before now _but_ , although they’d had a few conversations prior to this, he’d not realised that the self-conscious, shy teen had a quirk that activated through something as difficult to control and be mindful of as five-finger contact until Dabi had told him.

Shit…

It was probably really difficult to live with wasn’t it? Hell, he and virtually everyone else he knew thought nothing of just grabbing and grasping things, did they?

“They’re not exactly a specialist item _but_ they’re hard to come by since many people see such things as an infringement on their civil-liberties” he explained, his smile gentle; he could further the point by saying that this kind of support-item was mainly used by the criminal-justice system in the restraint of prisoners. However, that kind of fact probably wouldn’t be appreciated by a boy who was every bit as mysterious as his lodger; he’d mentioned no family name, no parents, no other friends, where he lived, what he did for a living or any family members.

He also had that same kind of haunted-look that shadowed Dabi’s face from time to time…

A look that spoke of trauma and pain…

A look that begged for help but was too frightened to ask for it…

Hmm…

“H-how… how did you know that something like this would work? I mean, they feel so soothing… it’s, I don’t know… they’re kind of cooling… _numbing_ and I… I was able to pick up an empty cup with my whole hand and _nothing_ bad happened…”

Ahh…

And there was the quiet wonder, the astonished surprise that something could be done, that there truly _was_ help to be had.

Heh…

Dabi had looked at him, just like this, on the first morning he’d woken up in their apartment and come down to eat the breakfast he’d left for him (it was a ritual, by now), those turquoise eyes completely bewildered that he’d not been hurt, tricked or taken advantage of…

Yes…

As his employee had murmured last night, they probably were ‘ _two peas_ ’ in a pod, they probably _did_ get each other more so than anyone else but, with some gentle coaxing and support, he might be able to give them the assistance they needed.

Or find someone else who could…

“I’ve met, worked with and helped quite a few people who had powers similar to yours” he related. “They’re not infallible, though” he gently warned. “Because if you _really_ wanted to activate your quirk then they’d disintegrate but, if that ever happens, just let me know and I’ll get you some more, okay? Oh, and the balm, too… unless you’d like me to show you how to make it yourself?”

Regarding his owlishly, the up-cycled jam-jar (because wasting such things by throwing them away should be criminal) pulled free from the front pouch of his lighter-weight, cherry-red hoody, Tomura baulked through a rueful laugh; “you _made_ this?” 

“I use it myself from time to time and yes, I made it but, full disclosure? It’s not my recipe” he said with a mild shrug that had the other laughing properly this time, his eyes rolling.

“Heh, and here I thought that you’d magicked it up like you do with everything else” he snorted before repocketing it, his smile warm; “I… I can’t tell you how much I appreciate this, really” he added quietly.

“You just did” Shouta chuckled, his eyes tracking Dabi as he walked past the window, the tray held over his head to defend against the sun; “now then, don’t you two have a game to play, or something?”

Grinning, Tomura nodded, both of them greeting the taller teen as he entered the café, a relieved sigh leaving him as he stared up at the air-con unit reverently.

“I’ll leave you both to it, then” he mused before standing with a stretch; “good luck shooting zombies, saving damsels or whatever else it is that you do” he snickered whilst the pair huffed after him, their words comically outraged by the summary of their “ _complex-strategy RPG~!_ ” as he slipped out of the door and into the sunshine.

Damn…

Maybe he _should_ take a dip in one of the pools?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahh~! Wasn't this nice?
> 
> *Looks at the tags*
> 
> Well, it's time for "major plot point one" to come into play...
> 
> *Cracks knuckles*


	20. Boss-sama...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Warnings include: FORESHADOWED EVENTS, angst, teasing, swearing, sexual innuendo, references to sex-work/brothels/pimps/drug-dealing and CLIFF HANGER ENDING (but not for long; the next two chapters are going to be intense BUT, trust me, things are going to work out, I promise~!**
> 
> So... that's an odd title, isn't it?
> 
> Go back to chapter 5 and read the first bit before a ~*~
> 
> I WILL BE UPDATING AGAIN TOMORROW AND IT'LL BE A DOUBLE, PEOPLE~!
> 
> Fasten your seatbelts~! 
> 
> XD

As 14:00 approached, he’d insisted that they all have lunch (just a few sandwiches, nothing fancy) and ice-cream under the shade of the umbrellas; he’d offered everyone the chance to go inside the café, however, they’d all been having such a great time outside that they’d decided to stay there.

One of the only _good_ things about being in such a built-up area, he supposed, was the lack of insects to bother them.

Then, after they’d eaten (the Pros had insisted on taking the plates, bowls and glasses back inside for him; they’d spotted Tomura and Dabi playing their game and wanted to say “hi”, too), Shouta was going to allow the kids to drag him into the pools to play a game on the condition that they all topped up their sunscreen, first.

Some sighing, some more than happy to ask their guardians and others insisting “ _ugh! I can do it myself, Ma~!_ ”, the café owner approached Hitoshi (whose mother, despite the invitation, had yet to show; Inko had whispered to him that she’d be taking the tot back home with her to read manga with Izuku, bless her heart) with a bottle in hand. “Would you like some help?”

Smiling up at him, the expression a little shy, the boy nodded as he crouched down to the kid’s height and carefully applied a few smears of the white-substance across warm cheeks, his forehead and down the bridge of his nose; “heh, nothing like a bit of war-paint, huh?” he chuckled.

At the boy’s giggle, he carefully massaged the lotion in (being sure to get _just_ close enough to the other’s eyes to ensure protection but now where near the lashes so he wouldn’t blink some in) before turning his attention to little arms and legs; they shared the same, natural pallor, so he was glad the boy had kept his shirt on with his shorts.

If the child got sunburn or heatstroke then he’d never forgive himself…

“There you go, all done” he smiled before standing, his legs about to approach the pools (Izuku and Denki were already splashing about with Tsuyu who was smiling like it was going out of style) whilst he inspected the hoses (which he’d turned back on to fill the paddling-pods with clean, fresh water) before a cough (and some giggles), stopped him.

“Maa, Shouta~ we could use some help too, ugh, since you’re offering?”

Blinking, his brows rising incredulously, the erasure quirk user regarded the Pros crowding his personal space whilst the parents continued to look on and titter.

Sighing (because the three did look a little red across their muscular shoulders and they _had_ been delighting everyone with their antics; heh, he assumed that they weren’t on patrol?), he waved them over to one of the free chairs and rolled his eyes as the men high fived whilst Midnight squealed “me first~!”

God…

Weren’t they all supposed to be older than him?

Tch, even the kids (squirting each other as they were with the pistols he’d told them to keep; Katsuki and Eijiro, however, were full on trying to dunk each other in the second largest pool whilst their mothers cheered them on: heh, the apples hadn’t fallen far from the trees there, had they?) were behaving more rationally.

Ahh well; he couldn’t have them burning, he supposed…

“Ooh~! That feels _wonderful~!_ Umm~! _There, there~!!_ ”

“Please stop making this weird” he huffed, his creamed-hands carefully applying a thin layer of the protective substance across her shoulders (he’d insisted that she held her masses of lustrous hair up so that her own hands couldn’t grab at him), his fingers working it in as she hummed.

“Wow~! You’re _real_ good at that, Shou-chwan~!”

Grumbling to himself (and he just _knew_ that the other heroes were taking photos alongside a deviously grinning Mitsuki; tch, _wonderful_ ), he carefully finished off her back before sending her (with a pout) away.

“My turn~!”

Having the blonde similarly keep his hair out of the way (it suited him so much better down; however, he supposed that the outlandish style that the jade-eyed man sported was more to do with his costume or, perhaps, a way to have long hair that’d be more difficult to grab? Tch, either explanation was irrational, wasn’t it?), Shouta got to work.

Hmm…

Considering Present Mic was _definitely_ slenderer than Loud Cloud, the muscles of his neck, shoulders and back were actually, very defined.

Not bad…

“Maa~ Midnight wasn’t kiddin~ you could charge people for this kind of treatment~! I know that _I’d_ pay~!”

And, just like that, his admiration died…

“Shut up” he snipped before, with a huff, he shoved the snickering man out of the chair, his hands (damn, he nearly dropped the bottle since his digits were so slippery) applying a good dollop of cream to his palms as a _definitely_ pleased looking cloud quirk user slipped into the chair, his smile luminous as he waved at his friends.

“Thanks for this, by the way…”

Blinking, his hands running over broad, sun-kissed shoulders (that were sculpted and firm; hmm… it might be worth starting to use him as a sparring partner in the adult classes, mightn’t it?) before easing up the other’s neck, his irises taking in the fine white, blue-tinted hair which mimicked the nimbus the older man could manipulate, Shouta hummed.

“It’d be illogical not to help you” he shrugged.

“Ahh~ no… no that’s not what I meant” the other chuckled, his head turning to slant that gentle smile at him; “you and your café haven’t even been here for two months and yet… all of these changes? The crime rate deteriorating, those thugs getting locked up and the low-ranking villains not bothering people as much, I mean” he added. “Just look at these kids, these people… they’re from all walks of life and from different areas across the city but, here they are” he sighed. “My cousins is one of the middle-schoolers whose being tutored by an MU student, too… she’s doing real well and is so much happier in school I… I just hope that you know how much we appreciate everything you’ve put into motion, you know?”

“Heh, as cynical as I may look and sound sometimes” he mused, his hands reaching for one of the towels he’d brought to the outside area to wipe off the excess lotion; “I am a firm believer in the inherent goodness of people” he admitted mildly. “And it’s not that I don’t appreciate your compliment or the sentiment behind it” he furthered when the other turned to properly regard him; “ _but_ these changes were only started, in part, by me… the people did the rest” he reminded: “human beings have only survived this long due to our mutual desire to cooperate” he reasoned. “Sometimes we forget that so, after a little nudge, well, here we are” he mused, his own smile forming; “now come on, it looks as though your friend needs your help” he chuckled whilst pointing towards the largest pool where Katsuki and Eijiro (along with Denki) had decided that Present Mic was an easier target to drown.

“Wah~! These little heroes in the making mean business, huh?!” the taller man laughed before getting up and, to his bewildered surprise, the tallest Pro quickly snagged his hand to drag him along…

“We’re coming Mic~!”

… and he hadn’t pulled away…

~*~

Waving the children good bye (it’d just turned 15:10 and he’d need to set up for the adult classes soon), their parents bowing and giving their thanks as they went, Shouta offered his own gratitude to the Pros as they started emptying the pools and deflating them.

“You know, today has definitely made one of my top-ten Sundays, _no_ ~! Top five~!” the voice quirk user grinned; “you’re gonna keep doing this, right Shou?”

“I don’t see why not” he smiled, his hands grabbing the hem of his thoroughly soaked (tch, it was clinging to him which was _beyond_ annoying) t-shirt to pull it up and over his head, his hands wringing it out and giving it a shake before laying it out on the hot-sidewalk.

Heh, with any luck it’d be dry soon…

“ _Uuhhh?_ ”

Blinking as he stood with a stretch (he’d have to start detaching the hoses from the wall and wrapping them up soon so it was a good idea to roll his shoulders a bit first), the erasure quirk user looked to the Pros, his head cocking to the side as they _started_ at him; “what?” he asked. “Do I have tan-lines, or something?” he furthered, his eyes looking down at the defined six-pack he sported before looking to his biceps.

Hmm…

He couldn’t see any such lines; ahh, was it the few scars he had? There weren’t many (two across his chest, one slit across his abdomen and a star-shaped one on his collar-bone), plus he didn’t think that they were particularly prominent and, were such things really so unusual?

Wouldn’t _they_ have scars, too?

“Y-you… I mean… you… _you’re_ … you _have_ …” Midnight tried, her hands cupping her face as she blushed and flailed around on the spot; hmm… well, she was allegedly a masochist, so…

“Tch, these are just scrapes I got from some upper-classmen when I was in middle-school, that’s all” he shrugged mildly before grabbing one of his basic bobbles from his boardshort’s pockets, his hands shoving his drying hair (the ends were tickling his damp shoulders, it was annoying) up into a messy bun (because he wasn’t here to impress anybody). Then, his hands grabbing a beach-ball, he removed the stopper and squished the air out, his eyebrows lifting again when he noticed that the Pros were continuing to look at him with gawping expressions, their eyes almost comically wide.

Were they… quivering?

“Are you… okay?” he tried; “you’ve all gone red in the face… Mic? Cloud? Are your noses bleeding? Do you need to sit down in the shade or—”

“ _Oi~!_ ”

Blinking, his head snapping back to where the café’s entrance was, he found his brows lifting higher as Dabi stormed towards them, a beach-towel in hand.

“What’s…”

“Stop salivating all over my boss, you bunch of perverts~!”

‘ _Eh?_ ’

“W-we… ugh, well, he’s _just_ so…”

“He’s not here to be gawked at, is he? Have some respect and get some tissues to clean yourselves up with, for fuck’s sake!”

Grunting when the towel was _literally_ thrown over him before his hand was grabbed, Shouta tried to sputter something out whilst the young man tugged him back towards his eatery; “we’ll take care of the rest of this stuff so _thanks_ and **get lost** until it’s time for your lesson later, my God~!”

Snickering (because what his employee had accused them of was ridiculous _but_ similarly, incredibly sweet; he’d never had anyone try and _defend his chastity_ before), the café owner used his free hand to tug the fluffy fabric off of his head, his face turning back to the stupefied (guilty looking?) Pros as he gave them a reassuring wave. 

Heh…

How very strange, how ridiculously illogical…

And maybe, if he was honest… just a little flattering, too…

~*~

Sunday evening came and went without _too_ much of a hitch; the Pros had apologised to him (he’d told them that such a thing was unnecessary _but_ accepted it; they’d apologised to Dabi, too (which’d been _fun_ to watch) whilst he’d sneered, huffed and warned them to “ _be respectful, **or else**_ ”) and the lessons had run smoothly.

When Inko had joined the later adult class with Izuku and Hitoshi, however, he’d started to worry.

Shinsou-san hadn’t answered the woman’s calls or her son’s texts, either.

She’d wanted to walk the boy to his mother’s apartment but was worried that she wouldn’t be there; trying to keep the iris haired-boy distracted and worry-free had been… difficult.

Acknowledging the situation, he’d approached the boy (who’d run into his arms for a hug the second he’d crouched down to check on him) to see how he was and what action he wanted them to take.

Sadly, his mother being MIA wasn’t, exactly, rare… was it?

After a quick chat, they’d decided to run the session (she might’ve been on her way or her cellphone could have died, couldn’t it?) and gone, together (his employee had insisted on going as well, just to be safe; Tomura had already gone home for the evening after all) to investigate.

Luckily, once they’d knocked on the apartment’s paint-chipped door, Kimiko had answered, wrapped her son in a hug and profusely apologised; she’d been in talks with the landlord for most of the afternoon, she’d said, and had _finally_ been able to pay the (cantankerous but fair, from what he’d heard) old lady whom owned the place every yen she owed.

Feeling relieved but politely declining the offer of tea (the Midoriya’s were going to stay with them a while; it was wonderful to see Hitoshi’s mother being taken under the green-haired woman’s kindly wing), he and Dabi had made their way back to the café.

They’d both clocked a couple of men watching them from a shadowy stairwell; however, since they’d not been approached by the posse (five in total; he made a point of remembering their faces and the scowls that marred them) he’d led his young friend (who may or may not have purposefully set his hair into a blue halo of flames) back to their home.

“Well, that was quite a day, wasn’t it?” he mused whilst they ate an evening meal together in the café’s kitchen, the bread-makers merrily churning and kneading dough in the background whilst the clothes dryer thumped and tumbled aprons, towels and the freshly washed boardshorts and t-shirt he’d been wearing. “So… any word about a _date_ yet, hmm?”

“W-ha, _tch_ , s-so asks the guy who’s building a _harem_ ” the other huffed with a blush, his chopsticks busily digging into his favourite style of yakisoba (which he’d made for him as a special ‘thank you’ for his earlier act of chivalry; the teen had laugh-snorted at him when he’d curtseyed and presented the dish) to avoid truly answering.

 _Heh_ …

It was wonderful to see him so happy, so _hopeful_ for the future and sure, he wasn’t a mind-reader or someone like Sir Nighteye who could _see_ the future **but** something was telling him that Tomura and Dabi would be all the better for being in each other’s company.

“Harem?” he mused, his own noodles (umm, the premium soy-sauce he’d purchased was worth every cent, wasn’t it?) all but gone. “Hmm, I haven’t got the time to run and manage such a thing on top of the café now, do I? Heh, I guess I’ll have to get All Might in on the action and use his money and resources to set up a schedule, or something” he grinned with a snicker, the flame quirk user nearly choking on his mouthful.

“ _B-bastard~!_ ” the leaner man finally laughed after a gulp of lemonade, his expression incredulous before it became sneakily, _suspiciously_ contemplative; “huh… how d’you suppose a guy of that size, you know, gets off? I mean… if he’s anatomically correct and _to scale_ , well, that’s a whole lot of dick, isn’t it?”

Finding that it was _his_ turn to choke (God; he should _not_ have started this teasing match, should he? He was clearly and woefully unprepared to go up against a teenager, wasn't he?), Shouta had to wipe his tearing eyes as he coughed.

Damn…

It felt good to laugh like this, though, didn’t it?

~*~

Boss-sama thought of himself as a legitimate (albeit illegal) businessman; he’d been running his girls (and a few, select boys because money was money and what his clientele wanted, his clientele got) on this block for five years now.

He had the prettiest pieces of flesh you were likely to find this side of Musutafu…

His prices were reasonable, for the most part…

Similarly, his three brothels were secret, safeguarded and secure…

Oh yes; so long as you had the yen, didn’t knock the sluts around too much and behaved yourself on the premises (no pissing on the beds, no drunken fights and no drug use; well, not unless you purchased the drugs from him or one of his associates onsite) then you were welcome in any of his _discreet_ houses of pleasure…

“So, they’ve been roaming around the area again today, huh?”

But how had he managed to keep his establishments undetected by the law for so long?

Why did he come out on top when many of his competitors failed?

Well, as the shrewd, business minded man he was, there were two _very good_ answers to those questions.

“Yes Boss-sama, they’ve been patrolling more often too and, ugh… we’ve spotted five more Pros sniffing about as well, sir.”

The first? Shopping the scummy, low-life bastards who _claimed_ to be pimps and setting the cops on them (and picking out the nicest of their _wares_ to entice his own customers with, to boot) was relatively easy; he _actually_ owned a small pachinko-bar on the other side of town so he _appeared_ like just another, concerned citizen.

Heh…

Plus, most of the police around these parts were a bunch of over-stretched fools (especially in this shit-stain of an area; hmm, a bribe here, a girl’s cell-number there, a sample of some party-upper or another and _poof_ , all of his competition had flittered away like so much trash in the wind) so he could deal with them easy enough…

“How much money are we down by?”

The second? No _Pro Hero_ was going to be thanked, applauded or paid-well for wasting their time on these cracked, run-down streets; he’d never liked the assholes and, thanks to him being so mindful, none had deigned to give the two or three square-miles he operated in a second look…

“Umm… ugh, about 30,000 yen, sir.”

Until _now_ …

Until a certain long-haired, curiously popular son of a bitch had rocked up and turned the grimy, fearfully little den of inequity he’d been building into a place where people liked to come…

Where _Pros_ liked to come…

And _Pros_ made his clients jumpy, it made them scared, it made them **not** visit his places of _business_... 

God, it made him sick to his stomach…

“30,000 yen, you say?”

It made him fucking _furious_ …

“Tch” he muttered, his wolf’s maw gritting down on the cigar hanging to the side of his brown-furred snout, his vermillion irises narrowing around the black-slits of his pupils, his thick, bushy tail giving an irritated slap against the cushions of the overly stuffed couch he was lounging in; “well, we can’t have that now, can we?” he sighed. “So… you’re certain that our dear, sweet Shinsou-chan is one of his simpering, little charity-cases, hmm?”

“Yes sir” one of his most trusted lieutenants replied before showing him a selection of images on the tablet he proffered of the dusky-purple haired woman who had handed in her “ _weeks’ notice_ ” to him that very afternoon. And there, just as he’d asked for, he could see her (one of his most popular until _the bitch_ had had the audacity to _quit_ now that she’d paid off her debts; she was going to work at that _café_ , _apparently_ the mysterious _Aizawa-san_ had already offered her a place) walking to and from the Noraneko, sometimes with that _freaky_ brat of hers in tow.

_Feh!_

He’d hated cats enough _before_ that wretched place had opened and its little shit of an owner had cleared out his cousin’s (stupidly named; he could admit that much) _Menagerie Gang_ because they’d been too drunk to realise that the arrogant prick didn’t have muscles just for the hell of it.

No…

No, he’d watched the bastard run those self-defence classes of his, he’d _seen_ the growing confidence of the men and women he was _helping_ , too; hell, one of his (more idiotic; you didn’t move against people in broad daylight, for fuck sake, because that was just _begging_ for trouble) cronies had been arrested by _two fucking salarymen_ when he’d tried to rob them last week!

“What do you want us to do, Boss-sama?”

Sucking in a deep breath of rich, cloying smoke, the wolf quirked male sighed; “get _that man_ on the phone” he ordered, his smile broadening into something truly terrible.

“I think this _Aizawa-san_ and I need to have a little _chat_ , don’t you?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Cackles madly*
> 
> Ahh~!
> 
> To anyone overly concerned PLEASE don't be; this is a Teen rating, there'll be no death/any huge trauma and, once more with feeling... **things will work out** ~!
> 
> You'll see~!
> 
> ; 3
> 
> Plus I was SO PROUD of my brain for coming up with the next instalments/I've been hashing them out for the past week~!
> 
> I hope that you enjoy them, too~!
> 
> Also *hugs the Dabi-kins* you're such a good son~!


	21. Of Predator and Prey - Part 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Warnings include: Mr Compress (he's a warning all by himself, trust me), references to abduction, references to killing/torture, references to keeping someone captive/references to sexual slavery (MILD BUT IT'S THERE... CREEPY COMPRESS IS CREEPY~!) ANGST, swearing and...**
> 
> **Here it comes...**
> 
> **FFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEELLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS~!!**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Buckle-up gang~!
> 
> We're shifting gears and cranking things up to 11~!
> 
> Of Predator and Prey is a 4 Parter...
> 
> Parts 1 & 2 are being uploaded today...
> 
> Parts 3 & 4 to follow~!

Sako Atsukiro had, once, considered himself to be a magnificent showman; at the tender age of twenty, he’d even secured a slot in one of Tokyo’s premiere entertainment venues and had drawn in crowds from far and wide…

For three, _paltry_ months…

“ _We’ve seen you do that before~!_ ” the dullards had cried; “ _we **know** how your quirk works~! Do something else~!_”

Tch, everyone was a critic these days…

That’s why, he supposed, at the ripe old age of twenty-five he’d given up on show-business (there were only so many times his ego could stand to be called a “ _hack_ ”, “ _has-been_ ” or “ _one-trick-pony_ ”) and so, where else was he to go _other_ than the underworld?

Sure, the conversations were stilted, the ambience mute and the lack of flare (or at least the appreciation of such) was overly prevalent _but_ , it beat running in the rat-race, didn’t it?

That, and he had grown accustomed to a certain life-style; well, finely tailored suits were pricey, high-quality masks (a must in his new line of work) didn’t come cheap and, really? If you weren’t drinking Junmai Daiginjo Sake or Champagne then _why_ would you bother drinking at all?

And besides, what he didn’t wasn’t _so_ nefarious, was it?

Not that he _couldn’t_ kill (there was no love lost between himself and his (ah-ha) _fellow man_ ); however, he’d not seen a need to, as of yet.

Oh no.

Easily capturing targets (people who’d pissed off the wrong loan-sharks, idiots who thought that the Yakuza weren’t real, _fools_ who stole what they shouldn’t and didn’t know how to cover their tracks) and _gift-wrapping_ them for whomever had purchased his _unique_ services was far more profitable.

That _and_ such work didn’t dirty or sully his preferred, pristine, rich-mahogany suede gloves now, did it?

* **Bzzz-bzzz-bzzz-bzzz** *

Sighing, his doe-eyes (ahh, so innocent looking in the mirror; there was nothing quite like appearing as the prey when you were _actually_ a predator) regarding his phone as it buzzed on the small side table next to his head whilst he lounged in an opulent, cast-iron tub brimming with bubbles, a champagne flute in hand, Atsukiro shook his right hand dry and grabbed it.

“Mushi-mushi? Mr Compress speaking” he purred out, the sound track to an old (yet fantastic; God, they didn’t musicals like this anymore) classic, Webber’s Phantom of the Opera, playing in the background; “umm? Well, abducting a civilian isn’t exactly _easy_ , you know?” he murmured when the job description was muttered.

“No, no… I’m not saying that I can’t or I won’t” he mused with a light shrug that only the steamy, amber-lit bathing chamber could witness; “it’s just a little more… _pricey_ ” he chuckled. “Walking into a public-space and grabbing someone is surely more difficult than tricking someone into meeting me privately” he reminded as the details of his target (a young, strong, workaholic who lived in the apartment above his establishment) were revealed. 

Tch, having to deal with people who thought that there was no _subtlety_ or _finesse_ behind what he did (and what he did _fantastically well_ , thank you~!) was irritating and grating besides.

“Does he have a quirk?” he pushed when the _henchman_ (because the crime-lords, king-pins, cartel-runners and brothel-owners he (in some cases sadly but, yen was yen, wasn’t it?) worked with _never_ called themselves; ahh… plausible deniability, eh?) started rambling about what a “ _prick_ ” this café owner was.

“What do you mean you _don’t know_?” he huffed, his eyes rolling incredulously; “if my target can shoot out scorching hot-water from his hands, has eye-lasers or super strength then _surely_ I should—”

“Boss-sama will pay you 700,000 yen _just_ to collect the guy and bring him to our main place of business” the crony cut in and, by God, he could hear the preening dickhead smirking through the phoneline; “will _that_ cover not knowing what his quirk is, hmm?”

“Heh, you son of a bitch” he laughed, his left hand snagging up his champagne flute with a pleased grin; “I’m in.”

~*~

As week’s went, this one had been great; many of his usual coffee orders had been swapped out for lemonades (which were quick to make and stored well; Dabi was also becoming more proficient in making the beverage, too) since the sunny weather looked to be sticking around, though, and more customers were sitting in the café to chat, as well.

In fact, it’d felt as though Saturday had sneaked up on him (so much quieter than week days, thank goodness; he’d not be able to keep up with his food-prep (despite his employee’s excellent assistance) otherwise; he could hardly believe that All Might’s birthday fell tomorrow and that the man, himself, would be swinging by for his goodies.

He was stuck in some (God, it sounded awful _but_ that was the price you paid when you were nationally famous, wasn’t it?) fancy, black-tie event that evening to _celebrate_ his big day with people he didn’t know, the big lug not minding (though he’d heard the strain in his voice when he’d called earlier) a jot because of the yen he’d raise form various charities. Tch, the life of a Pro hero sounded _just_ as tedious as he’d always imagined, didn’t it?

Heh, not that he’d have too much time to think about the overly friendly and endearing man having to suffer for, although today wasn’t filled with the same rush of people desperately scrambling for food and drink before work, it was still relatively busy. Hell, he’d even had Mimi-chan’s little gaggle of knitters set up in the study area as the seats were continually filled both inside his eatery and outside; as luck would have it, today just so happened to be a prime opportunity to hatch another little plan he’d been working on.

For who should have walked through his door at 11:00 then one of the people he’d seen a prime opportunity to help?

Ahh~!

When he’d introduced ‘ _the girls_ ’ (so many of the little booties, toys, blankets and cardigans already stitched together) to Fuchida Sora (the young woman he’d told them about, seven months pregnant and counting) she’d almost burst into tears; the elderly woman had embraced her, sat her down and swapped cell-phone numbers, addresses and advice. 

It’d been… beautiful to watch and, as they’d left together, he’d pulled into several embraces.

However, her form lingering whilst her friends walked on ahead, Mimi-chan had dug around in her purse and presented him with an adorable pair of crocheted cats (one in black, the other blue; both wore aprons and caps) before she’d left.

Dabi had squeezed her tightly when she’d opened his arms to him; he’d then asked his employee and his friend (potentially more) to place the gifts between the potted herbs upon the service-hatch’s broad sill to keep the little figurine Izuku had bought for them when they’d gone to the Mall together, company.

Heh, he’d need to buy the florist next door _just_ to house the kids’ artwork, projects and little gifts at this rate, wouldn’t he?

Then, during the quieter moments before lunch, his employee had cleaned (with Tomura helping; at one stage he’d watched them make a bet as to who could clean the most tables the fastest: heh, such good kids… and hearing the shorter teen squeal out a laugh when the flame-quirk user tickled his sides as a distraction had been _hilariously cute_ ) whilst he cooked and baked.

He’d been grateful for the chance to leave the service bar since his cakes, just as he’d hoped, had stayed popular and, for the life of him, he never seemed able to make enough bread.

On reflection, these were only _good_ worries to have, weren’t they?

Also, they’d have the pleasure of Izuku’s company from 17:00 until 21:30 that night since Inko had been invited to a small party by her boss to celebrate the incredible work that she and her department had done; tch, it was about time that her ungrateful bosses realised how amazing she was.

He’d sent her off that morning (when she’d come to ask if he could watch the boy; tch, _of course_ he would) with a dozen, fondant rabbit-eared and faced cupcakes for her to share with those colleagues; he’d needed taste-testers and critics since he planned on making two dozen more for All Might’s birthday, anyway.

The lunch-rush, too, passed with its usual speed and profit; a group of MU students had decided to set up a picnic outside after Kaoruko Awata (or Bubble Girl as he’d previously known her; she’d told him her real name with a blush and a smile because she thought him trustworthy enough to know it) asked permission. Happily agreeing, he’d grabbed one of the spare, large umbrellas and a less paint-spattered dustsheet from his storage nook and passed them onto her to spread out on the area where he usually taught self-defence.

He and Dabi had put the main outdoor tables and chairs out in front of his bay-windows so he could keep an eye on the customers and go outside to them if they needed anything.

Then, as the afternoon led into the evening, Tsuyu and Ochaco (the beautiful children that they were) had drawn pictures of their “ _Super-Fun-Water-Park-Adventure_ ” for him; they’d been similarly and proudly displayed next to Hitoshi’s prize-winning Report. The iris haired child, too, had come by for an evening meal.

His mother had had to make an emergency call but would be coming by to pick him up later; if the small, hopeful smile on the boy’s face and his quiet question of “do… do you _still_ need someone to help you in the café, Aizawa-san?” was anything to go by then Kimiko was _finally_ going to accept his offer of a job.

God he…

He couldn’t be happier…

He’d done the sums, of course _but_ he’d have taken a pay-cut himself if it meant bringing her onboard…

“Ahh~ Aizawa-san, Dabi-nii, Tomu-nii, good afternoon~!”

Smiling as Izuku bounced into the café, his mother waving as she walked to a taxi waiting for her on the road that curved around his eatery, Shouta waved back to her whilst saying “good afternoon, Izuku; do you want your usual?” to the tot who skipped past them with a “yes please~!” and towards the study area where Hitoshi was still drawing.

Ochaco and Tsuyu had already made their way home together and now, since many people had other things to occupy their Saturday evenings, he could make his way back into the kitchen to finish off All Might’s order whilst the teens oversaw the boys and any customers who might come in.

Heh…

It always felt good to be productive, didn’t it?

~*~

As jobs went, this one had been… _interesting_.

Oh yes, interesting and, admittedly, worth so much more than the yen he’d been paid for, not only was Aizawa-san _very_ easy on the eye (he’d always had a thing for tall, dark and handsome men, after all) _but_ the food and drink (all created by his fair hand, no less) was _delicious_.

 **Delicious** and ridiculously inexpensive.

Why, he’d been flitting in and out of the Noraneko (which, in itself, was adorable, clean and had the kind of ambience not even money could buy) all week (sans his _villain’s_ garb, of course); people watching had always been a hobby of his and, wouldn’t you know it? There were _many_ different kinds of people milling around from regular customers, people who drove there from other places and a wide range of ages; however, regardless of who they were, when asked, they _all_ had something to say about his ‘ _mark_ ’.

Ah, but learning anything more _useful_ than ‘ _he’s such a dear_ ’, ‘ _he’s very helpful_ ’, ‘ _have you **tried** a cake yet?!_’ had been… difficult. For although Aizawa (he couldn’t even find out his first name) was incredibly personable (in a quiet, actions over words kind of way), he didn’t talk about himself _at all_ ; which, considering his own, flamboyant personality, he found… _adorably humble_.

However, his ‘ _stake-outs_ ’ hadn’t been without merit in terms of what he was being paid to do as he’d been able to track the flow of traffic (in pinpoint it’s quietest hours; he didn’t _want_ an audience for this performance, after all) in and out of the café (that he _never_ seemed to leave) and to _eat_.

God…

One slice of that ‘ _Angel’s Food Cake_ ’ and he’d very nearly jacked in the whole idea of the job he’d been paid to do.

 _But_ he lamented, yen was yen and, if he turned this gig down then the (adorably gruff but insightfully clever) man would only be marked by someone else.

Someone who wouldn’t be able to _persuade_ Boss-sama that any rough treatment wouldn’t be necessary.

Hmm…

And he could always steal the gruff, little (by all accounts _quirkless_ ) cook for himself, couldn’t he?

For he didn’t have a _moral-compass_ per-say and, well? The pimp who so _haughtily_ claimed that he came from the world of _business_ would be more than happy to just have him safely and quietly out of the way, wouldn’t he?

Yes, it’d mean that the café owner wouldn’t have to suffer or die, wouldn’t it?

And he, in turn, would be _more than happy_ to have fresh pastries for breakfast every morning…

Hmm…

Breakfast in bed, _too_ , would be decidedly lovely, wouldn’t it?

Grinning to himself (and picturing the other in a French-maid’s outfit, the image causing him to snicker) from where he stood (in full regalia; ahh, but he wanted to make a memorable entrance, didn’t he~!) atop Aizawa’s apartment, Atsukiro checked his watch (21:01) and tittered to himself.

The surrounding area was deathly quiet…

Shinsou Kimiko was held to ransom on the off chance that he _couldn’t_ catch his quarry and the gallant cook would just _have_ to run to her rescue, wouldn’t he?

There were two teenagers (the heavily scarred boy was one to watch; however, he and the café’s owner seemed to have some kind of familial bond which he could use to his advantage: the kid wouldn’t _dare_ risk burning Aizawa, surely?) and two children in the eatery alongside his target.

As opportunities for an extraction of this sort went, this was a particularly golden one, wasn’t it?

~*~

Watching as the tots sat in Dabi’s preferred booth, a book entitled ‘Pro Heroes: Legendary Edition’ laid out between them on the table, Shouta looked at his cellphone before casting his eyes towards the apartment-block which loomed in reds and golds thanks to the dying sunset, his hands absentmindedly cleaning mugs whilst he manned the service-bar.

Hitoshi’s mother wasn’t returning his texts again; he just hoped that she’d fallen asleep and that when he walked the boy home, she’d be there.

God…

For some reason he just couldn’t get her off his mind…

“Ha~! We did it~!”

Blinking, his worry frittering away as he looked to the gaming area, the eatery owner smiled as his lodger fist-pumped the air and Tomura sagged, relief slumping his form, into the beanbag he sat in as he sighed; “I can’t believe it took us a whole hour to beat that _stupid_ leviathan… tch, I thought old games were meant to be easier.”

Snickering to himself, he went to pour them all a drink when…

* **Ding-ding~!** *

Turning back to the door (his eatery was open until 22:00 on Fridays and Saturdays _but_ it was quite strange to see someone come at this hour, _especially_ someone dressed so… theatrically?), Shouta took in the top-hat, white mask (featuring a painted, smiling(?) face), mustard trench-coat, brown gloves and cane of his customer with a slightly quirked brow.

“Welcome to the Noraneko” he said, the greeting a standard one by now; “what can I get you?” because, for all he knew, this person could be an actor, a performer, a cosplayer (which was something the children had had to explain to him) or a new Pro on the scene (since Loud Cloud and Mic were bullying their new _team-mates_ into visiting his place).

Because _surely_ he wasn’t a villain; no one looking to rob him would just saunter in, remove the quill-accented hat whilst he gave a bow and chirp out “a flat white coffee to drink in if that’s alright, my good man~!”, right?

Nodding, his head inclining to Dabi (just in case; it was late and he’d never seen this exhibitionist before) as the teen got up with a stretch (Tomura following) and slipped into the booth directly behind the one the tots were sitting in, their heads looking over the unruly mops of emerald and amethyst hair to huff at the heroes the kids were fawning over.

“That’ll be 200yen, please” he stated, his hand proffering a mug of steamy, caffeinated goodness.

“My-my~ what a reasonable price~!” the costumed man preened whilst showing of his _jazz-hands_ before _magicking_ up two 100yen coins, his fingers moving in a series of movements before making them disappear with a “maa~ wherever did they do, hmm?!”

Huffing, Shouta cocked his head at the extroverted cane-wielder; “you’ve slipped them under your gloves” he stated in his typical deadpan: he didn’t want to be cruel, particularly, but he’d never been fond of tricks and pranks.

“A-ah~?! Good heavens, young man, you’re quite perceptive, aren’t you?” the stranger chuckled sheepishly, his fingers slipping under the wider, loose cuff of his suede hand-coverings (and wasn’t he _too warm_ in all of that pomp and finery?) to drop the coins onto the counter with two, loud clangs.

“Thank you—”

“Oh-ho~! But I’m not _quite_ done yet, my friend~!” the other called grandly and, in an action too quick for him to counter, the masked man’s right hand was latched onto his wrist; “let’s see if I can make _you_ disappear, neh?”

“Wha—”

And then, he knew no more…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HOW COULD I END IT THERE?!
> 
> Oh... oh yeah, it's because the next bit will be posted in a minute~!
> 
> ^_^;;
> 
> Heh... I hope that this lives up to the hype~!


	22. Of Predator and Prey - Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Warnings include: ANGRY ZAWA (you mess with his kids, you get wrecked, boi~!), canon-typical violence, references to blood/blood loss, ANGST, swearing, scared/worried children, CLIFF HANGER ENDING and, you guessed it...**
> 
> FFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEELLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS~!!
> 
> **XD**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> LET'S GO~!!

Sharing a look with Tomura at the jingle of the door’s cute, little, cat-bell, Dabi hadn’t been able to hide his laugh-snort when he took in the Broadway reject who’d flounced into the café, his expression incredulous.

“Tch, just when you thought Pro Heroes couldn’t be anymore obnoxious” he muttered whilst his friend (and… maybe more) chuffed; however, just in case he’d read the situation wrong, his eyes moved to Shouta (who seemed as nonplussed as he was) and, at the subtle locking of their eyes, he tapped the shorter teen’s knee.

“Hmm?”

“Let’s go bother the smols” he suggested with a mild shrug.

“Oh? You worried about that prick?” the other replied quietly, his body getting up regardless; “or are you just annoyed that someone else might be flirting with your _dad_?” he grinned, his smirk shit-eating.

“Heh, just because this bag of dicks looks like a comedy act doesn’t mean he isn’t worth being wary of” the taller teen returned before, with a crooked grin of his own; “and don’t act like _you_ weren’t the guy who told me that those Pro bastards were nose bleeding over _our_ dad, Tomu-kun” he quipped.

“Ahh… touché” the slightly younger replied solemnly (and completely without denial) whilst they approached the booth behind the (admittedly adorable; he… couldn’t help but see Fuyumi, Natsuo and Shoto whenever he looked at them) six-year-olds, their knees shuffling along the padded seating so they could curl their heads over the happily smiling pair.

“What-cha reading, rug-rats?” he asked when Izuku tilted his face up at him; damn, he was certain that the kid had a quirk of super-cuteness, or something; “heh… what’s _that_ guy’s deal?” he asked, the index finger of his right hand pointing at, perhaps, the most _ridiculous_ thing he’d ever seen: “is… is he a fu— _freaking_ washing machine or…”

* **Clang-clang** *

Blinking, the four boys looked to where the smug, overly dramatic prick had just dropped some money on the service-bar’s counter (God, what a douchebag thing to do) whilst Shouta let out a sigh, his body moving forward a little to scoop up the coins.

Feeling his teeth grit (because that was _fucking_ rude; who the hell did this jumped-up bastard think he was in his _clown_ costume?), Dabi was about to say something, when…

“ _Let’s see if I can make _you_ disappear, neh?_”

Baulking, he and Tomura already out of the booth and standing in the walk way whilst the younger children gasped in terror, the flame quirk user felt his hands igniting as the masked fiend turned to him, a blue-marble tauntingly held between the middle and index fingers of his left hand whilst he waggled his right index digit at them.

“Easy now, boys~!” he chuckled darkly; “if I drop this little gem or you burn it whilst trying to harm me then your _dear_ Aizawa-san will be the one to suffer, you hear?”

Hissing, his eyes narrowing at the _mother-fucker_ , he then took two steps forward (to shield the gasping, terrified, rapidly _whispering_ children) whilst Tomura moved to his other side, the gloves he’d taken to wearing removed; “what do you want?” he snapped.

“Hmm? Oh, my dear boy I _have_ what I want~!” the concealed male tittered whilst lightly tossing the marble up in the air and catching it before playfully rolling it around his fingers; “ _but_ on the off chance that any of you think of following me, well? I believe it’s best that I give you a few warnings~!” he announced blithely. “Our lovely little cook isn’t the _only_ person who’s needed for a quick… _chat_ just now” he revealed, his free hand snagging the cane that’d been leaning against his leg to twirl and point it at a startled Hitoshi. “Your _mommy_ is safe for now, chibi-tan, but that’ll change if you boys don’t do _exactly_ what I say, alright? So that means no sudden moves, no phones, no _heroics_ , you got it?”

Scowling thunderously (shit, _shit_ ~! What could he do?), Dabi felt his teeth grit; neither he or his partner were fast enough to grab the bastard before he could hurt Shouta (in the light of the café’s over-head lamps, he could make out the silhouette of the man who’d saved him in the sphere) and if they rushed him, the gem could drop and smash, couldn’t it?

Shit…

 _Shit_!

He…

“ _W-where’s my mom?!_ ”

Snapping his head to Hitoshi (his face flooded with tears whilst Izuku wrapped his arms about those tremoring shoulders, the freckled tot scowling at the criminal angrily), the oldest of the café’s patrons was about to demand that the prick answer when…

“Your mom is… _ugh_ …”

Blinking owlishly, the flame quirk user watched, bewilderedly, as three _very_ amazingly fantastic things happened in rapid succession…

“ _Release Aizawa-san, right now, unharmed… and then put your hands up after dropping that cane!_ ”

The first? As _incredible_ as it seemed, the quivering, masked man _actually_ did as instructed whilst he and Tomura baulked and Izuku stage-whispered a “yes~! I knew you could do it, Toshi~ you’re amazing~”, his hands rubbing the slightly taller tot’s arms comfortingly…

“Wha—t?”

The second? Shouta was standing directly between him, his friend and the son of a bitch who’d summarily dropped his jewel-topped walking stick, the café owner’s back to them…

“You _dare_ come into _my_ home and frighten _my_ kids, you smarmy-prick?!”

The third? His employer punched the villain’s masked face _so hard_ that the white, ceramic covering shattered amidst the six-year-olds cheering; then, at those waves of ebony hair swirling into the air, he felt the tension in his shoulders relax and a relieved, shocked chuckle leave him. “Put your gloves back on, man” he told his still gawping partner as the now incensed self-defence instructor leapt onto the (clearly) broken-nosed bag of dicks and slammed him into the floor (with an agonised scream; heh, _good_ ) before forcing him onto his stomach and wrenching the other’s arms back _painfully_.

God…

 _God_ he…

Stepping towards the boys, he scooped up Izuku (and gave him a tight squeeze) before passing him to Tomura (who wrapped him in his protective arms with a pleased “ _you’re a fucking genius, Izu_ ”) and then pulling Hitoshi (now tearful again) into his chest; “you’re fucking amazing, you hear me?” he breathed into the child’s hair as the tot whimpered into his neck.

“And we’ll get you mom back, too, alright?” he promised before glowering down at the bastard _stupid_ enough to attack them, a flicker of flames accenting his hair until, with a blink, a little voice whispered in the back of his mind…

Hitoshi had _made_ this fucker submit…

Could…

Could the boy force people to tell the truth, too?

Could _he_ be the key to him taking down Endeavour, he…

“Now start talking or I’ll begin breaking your left arm at the wrist and working my way towards your shoulder… oh, and _believe me_ , you don’t _know_ what pain is right now… but you _will_ , I’ll make sure of it… So **talk** ~!”

Heh…

Thoughts for another time; saving Kimiko and dealing with whomever had sent this (now squealing and apologising) prick was all that mattered right now, wasn’t it?

~*~

“A-ahh-aaahhh~! Ow, _oowww~!_ Alright, I’m sorry, okay? Wah~! Alright, alright already~!”

Easing slightly (only slightly, mind you; he’d have snapped the bastard’s arm because the prick deserved it, however, he needed answers and if the criminal passed out then he’d have to wait around for the police which, with the teens here (both so secretive and skittish) they had to be a last resort) Shouta dug his left knee into the other’s lower back.

The resulting yelp was… satisfying.

“B-Boss-sama, you… you know him... r-right?”

Blinking (his bloody gaze reigniting even though the other’s hands weren’t a threat just now, the boot of his right foot was planted on the villain’s right wrist, pinning it to the ground whilst he kept the left awkwardly wrenched), the eatery owner felt his blood run cold, Shinsou Kimiko’s frightened face during their first conversation flooding his mind…

“ _“I… we… we had to move here a… a month ago I… I couldn’t afford the rent elsewhere” she continued after a beat; “H-Hitoshi’s been… been so brave and I… I have to… to leave him so often but he… he’s so brave” she tried to laugh. “I… his father and I we… we married s-straight out of h-high school and I… he was the… the smart one” she shuddered; “and I… I just had… had the l-looks…” she chuckled, the sound a little hysterical: “and… and Boss-sama-a… he… he runs this block he… he wants me to… to work for him… but… but I…_ ”

Oh _fuck_ …

“I know _of_ him” he hissed; “what’s this all about?” he pressed, his black-jean covered knee _kneading_ the other’s coat and shirt covered kidney.

“Ahh-ah~! Oh, ugh… he… he just wants to… to _talk_ to you about… _something_ ~!” the man bleeding from his nose all over his glittery, red linoleum wailed.

“He’s got Shinsou-san, too.”

Scowling angrily (the look softened when he looked back to Dabi, his employee carefully cradling a fretful Hitoshi to his chest whilst Tomura similarly held a pale Izuku) Shouta sucked in a breath before slowly pulling into a stand, his prisoner dragged up (and yowling) to stand too, that left arm he held still bent and twisted in his grasp. 

“Okay” he breathed; “you’re going to take me to this _Boss-sama_ …”

“What, Shou that’s…”

“We’ll come with you, we…”

“Boys” he said quietly, his head turning back towards them and, by God, he hoped they could see just how proud (so _ridiculously_ proud) he was of them; “we need to think about this logically” he soothed, his voice and tone calm even as he applied more pressure to the bastard he’d caught when he tried to flinch away.

“But…”

“Dabi” he cut in gently; “time is a factor and, as much as I know both you and Tomura are strong enough and brave enough to assist me… I **need** you to protect the boys” he stated: “we can’t be sure if _this_ sneaky shit is the only bastard we’re dealing with” he warned.

“ _But_ …”

“No” he said, his head shaking, his smile soft; “if either of you use your quirks… if the police find out that you did, then I wouldn’t be able to stop them from investigating you” he breathed, a sigh leaving him when both of the teens flinched a little, their determination faltering. “As much as I appreciate and care for you both, I don’t want you risking yourselves or the secrets you have every right to keep… not when I can protect you from that, alright?” he stated before giving a little nod to the smaller children. “The best thing you two can be right now is protective older brothers to our favourite customers, alright?”

Watching as they shared a look, the tots wrapped up a little more snuggly as they tried to stem their tears, each nodded slowly, allowing him to let out a small, relieved sigh; he couldn’t let anything happen to those teens or the boys.

He wouldn’t.

“Okay” he stated, his tone firm; “Izu, you have the keys to your apartment, don’t you?”

“Y-yes…”

“Good boy” he praised; “take them there, lock the door and…”

“But what if someone attacks the café?” his employee cut in, his head shaking; “that…”

“ _This_ is just a building” he reminded; “I can rebuild this place… but I _can’t_ replace any of you” he told them before nodding at the service-counter: “take my phone, go into the contacts list and call our local Pros and Inko-san” he instructed. “I’ll need your phone too, please… they should be able to track it just, slip it into my back-pocket, alright?”

Baulking but swiftly moving into action, Dabi did as he was told with a thick swallow whilst gently resting Hitoshi on his left-hip to free up his right arm; “we can’t replace you, either” he bit out hotly whilst pushing the device where he’d been told to: “so you better take care of yourself, you crazy not so old guy, alright?”

“I will” he stated before, his eyes shifting to the sniffling boy in the teen’s grasp (oh, how he longed to hug him, hug _all_ of them, but he couldn’t risk letting his captive loose) he leaned closer to the teen’s ear, his voice a quiet, deliberate whisper. “Tell the Pros to try and keep the police out of this in the first instance… sex work is illegal and, if we’re not careful, Shinsou-san could be arrested, too”.

Shit…

That’d be just their fucking luck, wouldn’t it? 

Pulling away, the tallest of the teen’s breathed “you got it” before moving to stroke the six-year-old’s hair for him.

“Everything’s going to be fine, alright? I won’t let them hurt your mom, so keep being a brave boy for me, okay?” he told him looking to all of them; “I am so sorry that you’ve all been drawn into this and, I swear, I’ll find a way to make it up to you… but, for now? Please get yourselves into that apartment and look after each other” he urged. Then, his ire returning, he shoved the flailing (“ _ow~! I think you’ve sprained my ankle, you know~!_ ”) male towards the café’s door and marched him through it.

“Take me to where Shinsou-san is being held and make it snappy before _I_ decide to get _snappy_ with your bones” he hissed, his frown deepening when the other sputtered out a “y-yeah, fine… I don’t get paid if don’t go any-w-a-y-y~!”

Growling angrily (so much for the _inherent good_ of people, huh?) he looked up to darkening sky and offered a little prayer.

‘ _Hold on, Kimiko_ ’ he thought; ‘ _I’m coming…_ ’

~*~

If it weren’t for the _severe_ amount of pain lancing up and down his arm, Atsukiro would have been _mightily_ impressed by the tenacious (and _bloody_ strong; umm… what a turn-on), straight-shooting young man _literally_ shoving him down back-alleys and side-streets.

“You’re a remarkable talent, you know” he praised as they walked in the near-darkness; _Boss-sama’s_ main brothel, the place he’d been told to bring the cook to in order to receive the second half of his money, was nestled between some old, relatively small and disused warehouses only five blocks away from the Noraneko; “are you a Pro?”

“ _Stop talking_.”

“An underground hero, a _vigilante_ , perhaps?” he continued after a sniff (heh, his nose had only just stopped bleeding); “I mean, you can’t _just_ be a— aaahhhh~! Ow~!” he cried before chuckling because, well, wasn’t _this_ exciting?

_Thrillingly unexpected?!_

Oh yes~!

He could _almost_ believe that the adorably gruff man he was leading would be more than a match for the classless thugs he was taking him to meet and he was _very_ much looking forward to watching him try since he’d seen no point in misleading him, after all.

He’d attained his victory over him fair and square… plus, he _did_ want to make some kind of amends, truly.

He _certainly_ hoped he could continue to sneak into the café for a slice of cake or two in the near-future, too~!

Ahh, but these were more pleasant thoughts for later weren’t they because, as they rounded one last, dumpster riddled side-street, a wider, desolate road (poorly light by a light scattering of flickering street-lights) opened up before them.

Then, its boarded-up, graffiti painted windows staring back at them, he recognised the rancid building he’d visited last Sunday, his doe eyes narrowing at it with a mildly disgusted huff.

 _Brothels_ , to his refined palate, were disgusting places brimming with used-people and the stench of men too ugly to court (or catch, his mind ironically supplied) a person of value, but still…

A job was a job, wasn’t it? 

“Um, we’re here, Aizawa-san” he declared, his chocolate-balaclava covered face inclining to the thick, barred metal door directly across from them. “So… I can be on my way now, yes? Oh, and would you be a dear and _not_ dispose of my favourite top-hat? I do believe it’s still on your lovely café’s floor… ahh, perhaps I could come by, at another time, to collect it, hmm?”

“Oh yeah, sure” the other deadpanned before giving his trapped arm (Jesus! Was he _really_ going to break it?!) a vicious twist; “you’re not going _anywhere_ because you know full well that I can’t get in there without you, so come on, no more stalling” he ground out. 

“You can’t be serious” he sputtered; “you’re just _one_ man…”

“And if _you_ don’t want your _precious_ hat burnt to cinders, then you’ll get me through that door, won’t you?” his captor (oh, if only the tables were turned; he’d treat him _so_ nicely) mockingly crooned; “now come on… you’re some kind of showman, aren’t you?”

“Why _yes_ , darling” he preened.

“Tch, then act like you have some balls” the other huffed and, a bewilderedly-pleased smile pulling his lips, Atsukiro couldn’t help his genuine, pleased little laugh.

Oh…

If he hadn’t been smitten before, he _certainly_ was now~!

~*~

“I AM HERE~!!”

Some days, Toshinori lamented, he _did_ get a little sick of his own voice…

“Wah~! All Might-o~! This party is _fabulous~!_ Are you _certain_ there isn’t a little-woman hiding away somewhere who keeps the apartment so spick-and-span, hmm?”

Sure, he’d always been _a bit_ of what Gran Torino affectionately(?) called a _ham_ but that didn’t mean that all of the posing, smiling and _corny_ dialogue didn’t run a little thin every so often…

“My goodness~! Look at the swimming-pool~! Quick, honey~! Let’s go take some selfies with that All Might Pool Noodle~! It’s too cute~!”

Ahh, but at least he had a trip to the café to enjoy for tomorrow; oh yes, the Noraneko had become a bit of an oasis for him as of late and, in the future? He was certainly hoping that Aizawa-kun (“ _tch, if you’re gonna call me that you may as well call me Shouta, hadn’t you?_ ”), _Shouta-kun_ would consider him, perhaps, having a few, quiet functions there on Sundays with a small gathering of people he could truly call friends…

“My-my, this Penthouse is just as big as ours… tell me, do you have a property portfolio? I could certainly help you to craft one, you know?”

He’d want to café owner there, too, of course; heh… Mirai _had_ been teasing that he’d not been formally introduced, as of late, hadn’t he? 

Heh…

Right now, between his Musutafu home and the cute, little eatery, he knew where he’d rather be...

“Goodness~! Look at all of this _Americana_ ~! Maa~ did you pick up these art-works when you were last _Stateside_ , All Might-sama~?!”

For, as the fifty people he didn’t know (all vetted by his Agency’s legal-team, all big-wigs in some way or another, all decked out with diamonds, silks and clothes that probably cost more then a year’s worth of rent (tch, not that he could say anything there; he wasn’t exactly poor now, was he?) and talking _at him_ , not _to_ him) milled around him, this didn’t _feel_ like his home…

“Wow~! I’ve never _seen_ a couch so big~! Wah~! It’s bigger than my bed~!”

However, when you belonged to a Nation, he supposed being an individual was relative; plus, hosting these vapid (but surely well-meaning) people for a few hours was a small price to pay, wasn’t it?

For every yen donated so that they could join “All Might’s Big Birthday-Bash~!” was going to fund the building of a new hospital _and_ a charitable organisation which helped and supported the widows and children of Pros who’d valiantly lost their lives in the line of duty.

Oh yes, for causes so dear to his heart, how could he not _grin_ , sign autographs and give them all the run of the place?

He…

“A PHONE-CALL IS HERE~! A PHONE-CALL IS HERE~!”

Blinking and quickly turning away from his agent (a shrill yet astute, officious and hardworking woman; hell, the media didn’t dare step a foot in this swanky apartment complex’s lobby for fear of her wrath) who was already glaring at him, Toshinori quickly looked at the caller i.d.

He’d promised to switch the device off (because Mirai would approach him, directly, during this _party_ if there was an emergency) _but_ , his hero duties coming before all else, he’d _forgotten_.

And, as the name “Shouta-Koneko” appeared, he was suddenly and _incredibly_ pleased that he hadn’t.

Skipping quickly to his impressively spacious larder (he’d been stood in the kitchen, offering pre-made cocktails) after flagging down one of his security team to keep watch and swerve nosey-bodies away, the blonde couldn’t help his _true_ smile as he accepted the call and placed it to his ear.

“Ahh~! Shouta-kun, how are you? Maa~ I’m a little busy at the—”

“ _A-All Might-o?_ ”

Blinking, his eyes widening, the image of an emerald eyed boy with a bright smile and curious nature popped into his mind _despite_ the tearful (frightened?) tone crackling across the secure, encrypted line; “Midoriya shounen?” he asked: “does Aizawa-san know that you—”

“A-Aizawa-san is… is in trouble~!”

Sucking in a breath, the neon blue of his eyes flashing, Toshinori was tugging his black, dickie-bow free of his neck and shucking his tux’ jacket without a second thought.

“Tell me where I need go, Midoriya-kun” he stated, his tone serious and he walked _through_ the wooden-slatted door of the large, store-cupboard his nostrils flaring amidst a sea of coos, awws and applause; “I’m on my way…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ;_;
> 
> Oh, Hitoshi... my beautiful, lil cinnamon roll~! And Izu, you beautiful, lil genius~! You convinced him to try, you helped him to be brave~!
> 
> WAH~!
> 
> I have wanted to write this bit FOR DAYS~!
> 
> I hope it was as satisfying for you as it was for me~!


	23. Of Predator and Prey - Part 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Warnings include: ANGST, swearing, canon-typical violence, reflections on parental death/Shigi's back-story, worry, anxiety, concern, brothels, referenced sex-work, referenced sexual abuse NON-DESCRIPTIVE but it's there, CLIFF HANGER ENDING and...**
> 
> **F-F-F-F-F-FFFFFFFFEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEELLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS~!!**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahh~!
> 
> Sorry, just one update right now... I had some car related drama this afternoon which threw a spanner in the works, hahaaa~! I'm fine, don't worry... it's all been sorted (thank God)...
> 
> Part 4 WILL be up on Thursday~! Ugh... later, on Thursday? it's 00:23 right now, heh...
> 
> Oops?
> 
> Thank you, again, for all of your LOVELY COMMENTS and kudos~! You're a joy to write for, guys~!

Midoriya Inko had _never_ run so quickly in her whole, twenty-nine years of life…

“Holy shit~! I’ll call a few Pros I used to work with and we’ll get right over there, okay?!”

There she’d been, laughing and smiling with her co-workers, her sake-cup empty and all of the cupcakes (“ _wow~ Inko-chan~ these are **so** yummy~!_”) gone, her eyes slanting to the clock mounted upon the far wall of the small, yet lively izakaya-bar their party had been held in, her “good-byes” and “see you on Monday” on the tip of her tongue…

“T-thank you, Mistuki-chan-n I… I’ve just p-passed the café and… and it’s all locked up… it… it seems okay, but—”

Then, her cell-phone had buzzed to life in her purse, the sounds of a silly, cat-song (well, what else would she use for the wonderful man who’d been more of a father to her child than the feckless bastard so cluelessly enjoying his life in America?) filling the bar and causing her team-mates to drunkenly laugh and giggle…

“Don’t you worry, Ko-chan… I’ll be there in five, you just check on those kids, alright?”

When it wasn’t Shouta’s voice that filled her ear, though, all frivolity had drained from her features; it had been Dabi who’d spoken to her…

He sounded like he was running…

_W-why?_

Someone had attacked their café…

_What?!_

Shinsou-san was in danger…

_Oh God!_

Aizawa-san was going to save her _by himself_ …

_Oh **no~!**_

He, her son, Hitoshi and that nice, shy Tomura (who Izuku adored with the same reverence he gave to the Noraneko staff and his study-group friends) boy were on their way to her apartment…

The teenagers (God bless them) had promised that _no one_ was going to lay a finger on the boys…

Then he’d had to go…

He’d needed to call the local Pro Heroes…

“I… I’m nearly at… at the door, Mitsuki-chan… t-thank you” she rasped into the phone pressed to her ear, her eyes tearing (oh, but how she longed to the brave, how she _wanted_ to be strong for her child and these sweet, wonderful boys who’d been through _enough_ without seeing her be so overly emotional); “I… I’ll see you… soon…”

~*~

Opening the door to Midoriya Inko (after he’d double-checked that it was her), Dabi huffed out a gasp as he was hugged tightly by the woman who hadn’t even bothered to kick her shoes off before, with a teary smile; “ _thank-you-for-looking-after-my-boy-and-Toshi-chan~!_ ” 

She’d then scuttled past him and into the living room whilst calling “ _please-lock-the-door-but-look-out-for-Bakugo-san-who’ll-be-here-soon~!_ ”

Turning back to the thick barrier and it’s two deadbolts (heh; sensible), though, he found himself hesitating…

Loud Cloud and Present Mic had only left a few minutes ago, a tracking device (just as Shouta had said; tch, clever shit) that’d fixed onto his phone’s signal leading them away in hand; if he ran, maybe he could catch up with them…

“Oi.”

Blinking, a _clearly_ hug ruffled Tomura approaching him, Dabi allowed the shorter teen to lean against him; “lock the door” he murmured.

“But…”

“You heard cat-dad” the younger grinned, their eyes locking; “you getting your ass hauled off by the police isn’t going to help anything, is it?” he murmured, his lips (nowhere near as chapped, just like the rest of him thanks to Shouta’s home-remedy) pulling into a frown. “I know that it’s hard to stay still when you want to move but… he’s right” he reasoned before nodding back into living space behind them where the six-year-olds were being coddled, soothed and reassured; “and besides… what if someone _does_ come by, looking for trouble?” he asked. “They need our help right now… plus, d’you _really_ want to miss an opportunity to torch some dickhead in _self-defence_?” he quipped whilst trying to smile.

Letting out a strained chuckle, Dabi shook his head ruefully; “no… no I guess not” he breathed whilst seeing to the locks, a turquoise eye looking back out and into the quiet corridor outside through the peephole: “you got his phone?”

“Hm? No, I thought you had it” the shorter blinked as they walked, his right arm slung over the other’s shoulders, into the living space where the three people they were to protect had nestled into the couch (shit, he should probably get them a box of tissues, or something); “ah, it’s there on the coffee table…”

Looking to where his partner was pointing, Dabi nodded whilst they approached the couch; “Midoriya-san? Would you like some tea?” he offered whilst Tomura moved to the chair adjacent to the sofa in that small, tidily neat living space, his body slipping into it with a quiet sigh before he carefully picked up the phone, his eyes absentmindedly checking it over.

“O-oh, oh yes… thank you” the oldest person of the room breathed, her arms still curled around the boys snuggled into her sides; he’d already poured them both a soda, but…

“D’you take sugar?”

Neither of them had touched their glasses.

“Heh… I think I’ll treat myself to… to two spoonful’s, please.”

In fact, outside of allowing the kindly woman to hold them, they’d just held each other on the couch whilst they’d awaited the woman’s return and any other news; they’d quietly spoken about what else they could do in the kitchen whilst they awaited the Pros and, well? Neither of them, apparently, had spent a great deal of time with young children outside of the café (he’d not _exactly_ been allowed to _mix_ with Fuyumi and Natsuo; “ _you don’t live in _their_ world, Touya, you’re better… remember that_”, had he?) and they’d not known what to say to them.

Hell, what could they say?

They didn’t know who this _Boss-sama_ prick was or what he’d done to Kimiko or what kind of situation Shouta could have run into with the sneaky mother fucker, did they?

 _Shit_.

But, he could make a drink at least, couldn’t he?

Nodding, he walked through the open-planned space and into the kitchen, his hands switching on the kettle before he went hunting for a mug and the tea, his hands working on autopilot whilst he tried to distract himself from the worry eating away at him.

“Ano… the call log says that we’ve contacted _All Might_? Heh… is that a nickname for Present Mic, or something?”

Blinking out of his thoughts, the kettle having boiled, Dabi quirked a brow at the tone his friend had used, his turquoise eyes looking over his t-shirt covered shoulder, his brows rising.

Did… Tomura sound _worried_ beneath that incredulous tone?

“I mean… Shou doesn’t know the _real_ All Might, does he?”

They’d never really talked about their home lives or backgrounds (there was a silent understanding shared between them, a similar understanding to what he (and they) shared with Shouta, that they’d talk about such things when they were ready, that living in the moment was all that mattered) _but_ he knew that other wasn’t fond of Pro Heroes.

He’d laughed louder than he’d ever really heard him, once, when Izuku had told him that, with his quirk, he could be an amazing one.

“Heh, that’s right… you don’t usually come by on Sundays, do you?”

He remembered looking at him then and had thought (but didn’t raise the issue; they’d only known each other for three weeks, hadn’t they?) that the bewildered, disbelieving smile and the excuse ( _“heh… I don’t think I’d suit a cape, kid… and a costume would probably make my skin-itch_ ”) he’d given to the tot had sounded a little… _strained_.

Hmm…

“Heh… he comes by the café every so often _but_ I wouldn’t say that he _knows_ him” he stated as he walked back over, the steaming mug moved to rest on a coaster atop the coffee table before the now less tearful woman; “why do you ask?”

“I just… _All Might_? And… I didn’t call him, did you?” his partner said, his gloved hand holding the device out for Dabi to see.

There was that _look_ again.

Filing that expression away for later (could Tomura have an underlying reason for hating All Might? Did _he_ still hate him? No, no that was too strong a word for how **he** now felt about the boisterous _Symbol of Peace_ since they’d spoken a few times; it wasn’t _his_ fault that Endeavour was _breeding children_ to defeat him), the oldest teen looked to the emerald haired child.

Because if _anyone_ had done such a thing, then surely it was; “Izuku?”

Ahh, those worried tears were building up again… 

_Damn it_ , he didn’t want to upset the kid…

“I… I’m sorry if I wasn’ ‘spose to” the child breathed through a sniffle; “I know I should’ve… should’ve asked before using it but… but I jus know that he… that All Might-o will make sure that they’re all… _all_ …” he whimpered whilst his mother soothingly rubbed his back.

“Hey” he said gently whilst moving to kneel next to him; “you know we’re not exactly _fans_ of Pro Hero society at the Noraneko” he said, his hand reaching out to grasp a smaller, tremoring one: “ _but_ , as a customer, I suppose Shouta won’t mind having him tag along whilst he sees to our business, right?”

~*~

Seeing “All Might” on the call-screen (that he’d only been checking to keep himself distracted; tch, he couldn’t believe how _actually_ worried his was about the humble, witty, _deeply-genuinely_ caring café owner: hell, if it wasn’t for the ramifications, he would have contacted Kurogiri to wade in) had been like a punch to the gut.

These people…

These people who he’d stupidly come to know…

 _Stupidly_ enjoyed the company of, they…

They _knew_ the man, the _Symbol_ Sensei had been training him to destroy since his childhood…

Since that terrible day when his father had attacked him and he, out of fear, rage and betrayal had killed him…

And everyone else…

All because he’d wanted to _play hero_ …

All because he’d idolised All Might…

All because All Might existed in the first place, he…

Swallowing thickly (he needed to calm down, he needed to think), he watched Dabi soothe the smallest Midoriya (and, damn everything, _why_ did he has such a soft spot for (tch, actually _all_ of them, though) that kid? A kid who looked, sounded and acted like he had… like he had _before_ his monstrous quirk had reared its ugly head and _ruined_ everything?).

 _Fuck_.

He was in _way_ too deep here; he’d been willing to use his quirk and dispose himself, potentially throwing away years of work and secrecy.

 _Shit_.

But… it wasn’t too late to cut these fledgling ties and run, right?

He’d not been so stupid as to show the older teenager (intelligent, handsome, sarcastic as fuck and _never_ scared of him, scared of _challenging_ him, _touching_ him; God… he’d almost forgotten what a hug, a touch, an embrace felt like… it made him hungry for more) where he lived. 

Similarly, he’d only ever spoken of his life in short spurts of fractured half-truths…

He lived by himself; his uncle took care of the bills: his _uncle_ was all the family he had…

He was studying online courses at home…

He was going into the “ _family-business_ ”…

His uncle was usually overseas, he had a chaperone if he wanted or needed anything…

So, he could just back to his apartment, couldn’t he?

He could forget about the food (delicious), the laughter, the comradery, the feeling of _safety_ , of _acceptance_ and…

“Tomu-nii?”

Blinking (shit, had he spaced out?), the decay quirk user found Hitoshi stood next to his chair, those dark, red-rimmed eyes staring up at him; at the look, he tried not to fidget nodded, their gazes locked: “can… can I sit with you?”

_God damn, everything…_

Scooping the kid up, his middle fingers pulled away (just in case, just to be safe; shit… he cared, he _fucking_ cared and he didn’t want _not_ to), he found himself wrapping the tot in his arms, the boy’s head tucked beneath his chin whilst he cautiously looked to the others.

Inko had (somehow, without him even realising, _shit_ ) gone to the door with Izuku and Dabi; looking past them, he could see Bakugo-san and some others (tch, more Pros, _wonderful_ ) in the hall; “heh… you don’t want to see anyone beside your mom and Shouta, huh kid?” he breathed into the child’s hair.

“Y-you looked sad, too… Tomu-nii” the tot murmured; “t-thank you… for, for bein’ here…” he furthered with a sniffle: “I… I know what it’s like, you know? To not… not really have anyone and be… be sad cus of how… how people see you” the six-year-old continued, his whispers slowly but surely chipping at the resolve he’d tried to build. “I… I kind’a don’t like… _didn’t_ like All Might either, you know, before I m-met him… I knew… knew I could never be a hero… like him and… he’s so bright an’… and sunny… I was actually _real_ scared when he came to the café” he sighed. “I… I like heroes like Aizawa-san and Dabi-nii and _you_ the best…”

_W-what?_

“Tch… I’m no hero, Toshi-kun…”

“B-but you are… you are, to me” the brave (so fucking brave; shit, if _anyone_ deserved that title then it was him after what he managed to do tonight whilst he and his partner were forced to just _fucking_ stand there like idiots) voice quirk user murmured, those small hands bunching in the fabric of his thinnest, black hoody. “You… you and Dabi-nii… you weren’t gonna… gonna let that man get away and you… you make me feel better… you make me feel safe because… because you’ve had to deal with… with all kinds of not nice things, haven’t you? That’s what… what I’ve heard you say to Dabi-nii when it’s just us at the café” he breathed. “But you… you’ve kept going… you’re so smart and funny and… and no one plays video-games like you” he continued softly; “I wanna be strong like you… and them and I… I want my mom back so… so we can all be there… together… at the Noraneko, you know?”

Sucking in a breath (to try and calm himself above all else; God… it’d been a long _fucking_ time since anyone had made him feel so…

 _Fuck_ …

“T-thanks, kid…”

He couldn’t walk away, could he?

Tch…

"We... we'll do that, okay? Tomorrow... tomorrow'll be better... heh... I'll tell your mom how brave you've been too, alright?" 

He’d have to think about the _All Might_ problem, _later_ …

~*~

“Ahh~! Hello, I’m here with Boss-sama’s _special guest_ if you’d be _so kind_ as to let me in?”

Duping the thug at the door into opening it had been thankfully easy and although he wouldn’t trust “ _Mr Compress_ ” as far as he could throw him, the prick had, at least, been able to sweet talk the person who’d pulled back the eye-level viewing slot to grunt at him and unlock the thick, metal barrier.

“Remember what I told you” he whispered from where he was hidden (thanks to the bastard’s overly ornate outfit and the poor lighting across the nightscape) behind him, the criminal’s wrists still locked in his hands; “if you _ever_ think of harming me, those kids or _anyone_ else and I hear about it, you’ll be sorry, got it?”

“Hmm… I am _already_ sorry, yes, _quite_ sorry that we hadn’t been able to meet under more _friendly_ circumstances, my dear boy” the fiend tittered as the final deadlock gave way with a loud, ominous clang; “good luck, Aizawa-tan~!”

Snorting, he shoved the ridiculous villain hard enough that he’d stumbled a good yard or two out of the way; he needed that much distance just in case he tried to bind him with that quirk of his.

Then, the second the barrier inched open, he ignited his own power…

“ _W-what?_ ”

And moved…

Grabbing the doorman (six-foot, muscular, unarmed, _surprised_ ) by the arm and _pulling_ him into his fist knocked him out, as it should, and sent him toppling to the ratty-carpeted floor.

Luckily, there was no one else stationed there and, after a cautionary look around, the long, fractiously lit corridor was free of an obvious CCTV and so, swiftly but cautiously, he jogged down the walkway, his ears straining for anything that’d tell him where to go.

The place smelt like cheap-perfume, stale-booze and cigarette smoke whilst, over-head, rickety-old illuminated bars flicked and clanked; the walls and been hastily papered (some floral pattern, stained in places and torn in others) to make it look _homely_.

God…

And to think that Kimiko (and who knew how many others) had to suffer in a place like this; ‘ _but not for too much longer_ ’ he thought, his booted feet almost skidding to a stop at the bottom of a stairway.

Shit, he’d seen no other doors (and _Boss-sama_ didn’t seem like the kind of person smart-enough to have concealed entrance ways and exits) so, it looked as though the only way was up.

Gritting his teeth, he moved as stealthily as he could whilst the thrum of music (heavy-bass, _American_ , possibly) started to permeate the stagnant air (God; all of the windows were barred, the heat was becoming oppressive and he hoped he wouldn’t get sick just from breathing it); tch, so _this_ was why no Pro or the Police had found this place.

On the top floor, at the back of the building (that was no doubt backed by other, _actually_ disused spaces) with all points of entry sealed off (bar a few; heh, he didn’t think that health and safety would be on the minds of the scummy people behind this place so he couldn’t rely on a fire-exit to get out: tch, _wonderful_ ), who would hear anything?

Who would _see_ anything besides the Johns who no doubt learned of this brothel through word of mouth or the dark-web?

Shit…

How many _more_ places like this were there in Musutafu?

“… _drink and hurry up, it’s hot as balls in here~!_ ”

Blinking (and pressing himself into a shadowed alcove where fire extinguishers _should_ have been housed), Shouta heard a door creak open (“ _an’ get me some pocky, while you’re at it~!_ ”) from next flight up; the music wasn’t any louder, so perhaps whomever he heard yelling was in a private room?

Tch…

It’d be just his luck if there were, in fact, multiple rooms up there, wouldn’t it?

Centring his breathing, he looked back down the way he’d come (just to be safe) before continuing up.

What he saw, when he cautiously peered around the open stairway (the fire-doors long gone) was a much longer, wider corridor containing doors (all numbered from 1 to 12) and, at the end of the corridor, a set of double doors that spelt out “PARTY” in English.

That’s where the music was coming from.

Heh, it looked as though he was going to have to do this the hard-way, didn’t it?

Sighing, he briefly closed his eyes, pictured the layout and listened; the twelve rooms, if the man he’d just heard was a _John_ , were probably where the sex-workers were stationed. That meant that the bastard he was here to _see_ should be in the “PARTY” room, no doubt getting ready to preen, rant and rave at him for whatever reason.

However…

He couldn’t just go straight there; he needed to get as many of the illegally operating people out as possible so that they could get away.

He wouldn’t put it past the Pros to call the cops regardless of what Dabi had asked them to do, after all.

Shit.

Rolling his shoulders, he waited for the music’s intensity to build, the thudding loud enough to mask his footfall and any screaming that might result in his actions before bolting.

Kicking open door 1, he found a man (mostly naked, _vile_ ) sat next to a fan in the dingy, poorly lit room, his fat ass slumped on a futon; “w-what?!”

“Get the fuck out of here or you’ll regret it!” he snapped, his hand grabbing at the bastard’s arm, pulling him up and shoving him (with a yelp) into the stairwell.

Similarly entering door 2, he found a woman (not much older than him, a cheap kimono wrapped about her as she cowered in a corner; shit, she had a black eye and looked terrified); “p-please don’t…”

“I’m not here to hurt you” he promised, his hands raised; “but you need to get out of here now, alright?”

Blinking up at him, she nodded before, her eyes widening; “y-you… you own that café, don’t you?” she breathed whilst standing: “K-Kimiko… she…”

“Where is she?” he asked, his head moving back of the door to see the disgusting old man cursing and stumbling down the stairs whilst trying to pull his trousers back on; tch, he hoped the prick tripped and fell all the way down those cement steps.

“B-Boss” she breathed whilst approaching him, her lithe form pointing to the “PARTY” doors; “he… he’s been bragging about-t… about-t hurtin’ you and… and burning your pl-ace down…”

‘ _Has he now?_ ’

“… he… he’s got guards they… they’re big… they’re strong… there’re t-ten of them, they…”

“Do they have guns?” he asked, his eyes narrowing at the double doors as another song started to ramp up; he could feel the vibrations through the floor.

“N-no… no but… their quirks, they…”

“Don’t worry” he tried to smile, his body moving aside; “I can take care of this… just try to get out in case the police come, alright?”

Blinking, sniffling and nodding, the woman limped past him before, with a snarl, he was moving again.

“ _POLICE~!_ ” he yelled whilst kicking each door open in turn; at the yelps, screams and shouts he heard, he could trust that the everyone in those rooms would scarper (which’d mean there shouldn’t be any civilian that could get hurt if this fight got out of hand) so that took care of _one_ problem, at least.

Then, his body stood before the double doors, he rolled his shoulder and pushed through…

These bastards weren’t going to know what hit them…


	24. Of Predator and Prey - Part 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Warnings include: canon typical violence, BAMF Aizawa, Mr Compress (you know why by now), swearing, distressing scenes, brothel-setting, references to people being drugged, references to people being abused, references to causing harm/inflicting harm, ANGST and...**
> 
> **FFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEELLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS~!!**

“ _Wah~!_ ”

Taking out the two thugs by the door had been easy; his body had moved in a blur of motion, the strobe lighting (that he’d not been expecting but he was too focused to let it bother him or steal his focus) and other, multi-coloured, flashing lights working to his advantage…

“ _Ahhh~!!_ ”

Until he’d decided that throwing the seven-foot tall (gangly, with four, flailing tentacle arms) bastard who’d tried to rope his legs out from under him _onto_ the DJ set (the gasping, sunglasses-wearing MC had yowled and waved his arms maniacally before the impact) was a logical way to bring the _PARTY_ to an end…

There’d be _no more_ celebrating the victimisation of the people these villains (because that’s what they were, and _no one_ would convince him otherwise) had forced into such a terrible situation, not on his watch…

“Ah~! You mother-fucker~! That equipment was ridiculously expensive~!”

“Then it was an illogical purchase” he replied, his body loose but ready as he stood near the doors and took in the now mostly quiet (aside from mutterings, curses and worried whispers), amber-lit room.

He could have been sick at what he saw…

“Where the fuck is Mr Compress?! How the hell did you get in here?!”

Directly before him, a luminated-square dance floor yawning out between them, was an irate man in a flashy-red suit (he was _showing-off_ his gawdy-gemstoned watch and the four _gold_ chains which glimmered over his furred chest; four buttons of his black-silk shirt were open to host them _proudly_ as he growled). Tch, the guy was stood on a dais (like some kind of madman with a God-complex), his shoulders shaking with rage (and shock) whilst vermillion eyes narrowed at him from a darkly-furred face.

So this, he _supposed_ , was _Boss-sama_?

Heh, his angry, wolf-quirk mutated body was looming up from the most _ridiculously_ over-stuffed couch he’d ever seen, a bushy, brown tail slashing the air angrily behind him whilst two women (who he didn’t recognise) sat on the floor next to his shoeless, huge clawed feet.

They were handcuffed to the armrests and looked drugged out of their minds…

“Where is Shinsou Kimiko?”

To his left, one of them checking on the _body-guard_ he’d punched in the throat (he was still breathing; there was no love-loss there), were two of the other hired-men, their bodies dressed in poorly tailored suits and sunglasses (tch, indoors? _Really_ ); they were stood at the ready, their scaly faces worried and bewildered.

Behind them, similarly drugged, were two women and a man, all dressed in cheap, scanty kimono-like robes and sat (barely conscious) on a few floor cushions, their bodies slumped against the wall…

“Tch~! Teme~! You have a lot of never coming here and demanding things~!”

To his right, four of the thugs were trying to wrangle the big, flailing squid-man out of the damaged, sparking equipment (the huge speakers had toppled onto the lighting-rig and the turntables had collapsed) whilst, next to his feet, the other man he’d downed groaned unconsciously into the concrete floor, his tongue lolled out and chest heaving.

Heh, it served him right…

The rest of the room, similarly, hosted a few other people (all in their late teens, early twenties; none of them had reacted to the multicoloured lights shutting off alongside the music and none looked capable of getting themselves out of there safely by themselves, either; shit) dotted around the square room (roughly the size of his café).

There were no other visible points of entry that he could see besides the doors behind him; however, there were two bars and a range of seats (some that housed owlish looking patrons, each man sat with a sex-worker who was either frightened or too drugged to know what was happening).

“I’m the man you wanted to have a _chat_ with, aren’t I?” he asked, his eyes carefully regarding the seven men who could still choose to attack him whilst keeping his focus on the heavily-furred, claw-handed _boss_ ; “so what do you want? _Why_ go to all of this?” he pushed. “Anyone is welcome at my…”

“Ahh~! And there it is~!” the tall (tch, nearly seven-foot; heh, he’d thought that _finally_ reaching six feet around his nineteenth birthday had been an accomplishment since he’d been five foot six for most of his teenage years) pimp-come- _business_ owner sneered. “What gave you the right to flounce into _my_ territory and start _changing things?!_ ” he all but howled, those big, paw like hands curling into fists as he sneered; “I’ve lost _four_ of my best girls to your _stupid_ little contact-scheme and my customers, my _clients_ , are getting too scared to come here~!” 

“If they’re scared to _visit_ this place, then they know what they’re doing is illegal” he stated bluntly, a glare narrowing at some of the Johns who were now sweating bullets and looking as though they were trying to leave; “what gives _you_ the right to capitalise on people who may have had no other options?” he countered, his hands gesturing around the room. “Why not use your wealth for something good?” he asked; “why not give these people _actual_ work to do?” he seethed: “how can you stand there and be _okay_ with all of the harm you’re inflicting?”

“Hah~! I’ve not even _begun_ to inflict _harm_ yet, you bastard~!” Boss-sama spat before, with a snap of his fingers, a person stood up from behind the bar.

Kimiko was held against his wide, barely clothed lizard’s chest; she was gagged, her hands clearly tied behind her back; she stared at him with frighted eyes, her hair dishevelled and summer-dress torn at the front, exposing her bra.

The needle-toothed bastard who held her smiled at him, a long, globular tongue whipping out to lick her check.

He held a knife to her throat.

“Now what do you have to say, tough guy?”

“You’re not a murderer” he replied shortly, his posture unchanged, his eyes looking back to the scowling pimp; “you’re in enough trouble as it is” he reasoned: “let her go, make no further moves and save yourself any extra jail time” he stated, his brows furrowing when the other barked out a cruel laugh that was echoed by his fellows.

However, unbeknownst to anyone other than him, he could feel Dabi’s phone vibrating in his back pocket.

Heh, the cavalry was on the way then?

God, he hoped that he could get this mess resolved without too much outsider interference (for the sex-workers’ sake; damn it all: he could see several CCTV cameras dotted across the walls and ceiling… cameras that would, no doubt, hold incriminating evidence) _but_ talking this wolf-bastard down didn’t look like an option now, did it?

Not that he didn’t want his tailed-ass hauled off to jail, of course; however, the law had always been a “black and white” affair and, regardless of anything he could say or do, there would probably by consequences attached to this nightmare, wouldn’t there?

_Fuck…_

“Y-you, _you’re_ trying to get _me_ out of trouble?!” Boss-sama chuckled, a furred hand wiping at his tearing eyes; “what kind of saint are you, huh?”

“I’m just a person who owns a café for the public interest” he replied with a shrug; “think about this logically” he urged: “ _I’m_ not the only person you’ll have to deal with…”

“Abe, Shinji, _boys_ ~! Fuck this bastard’s shit up, _now_ ~!”

Sighing (because, _of course_ ), Shouta ignited his eyes and fell into one of his preferred kata…

“Come ‘ere you little— _oooffffff~!!_ ”

Slipping out of the bull-headed man’s grabbing fingers (his associate squealing when whatever, missile-based quirk he wanted to fire from his chest-canon refused to launch), he ducked low before springing to upper-cut the man in his grey-furred, cow’s jaw.

Not waiting to watch the bastard hit the floor (he could see, in his periphery, that the other henchmen were rushing in), he used the metal-skinned man’s canon to his advantage by latching onto it and using it to propel himself into the air.

The force of his vault sent the canon user tumbling to the floor…

He then flipped to form a paired, ariel kick which landed him onto two of the men who’d tried to snag him, his feet planting in their chest so he could spring-board from them…

“ _Oooooffffff~!!_ ”

To plough a flying kick into another, seven-foot goon’s chest and, once his booted feet hit the concrete, he threw a number of short-range, powerful jabs into the last attacker’s torso before throwing a solid, right-hook to plough across his astonished, maroon coloured face.

The brute gasped, spun to the floor and stayed there to groan and shudder with his friends.

Tch.

When would people learn that strength would submit to skill almost every time?

He…

“The _actual_ fuck~!” the incensed wolf snarled, his head shaking in disbelief as clawed fingers ran down his irate face; “who the fuck are you?”

“I’m just a cook by trade” he returned calmly, his eyes slanting to the now blue lizard man holding (a now more relieved looking) Kimiko and the quivering, definitely terrified _patrons_ who were all stood, their gazes flicking from him to the exit he guarded; “I’m a child-minder and self-defence instructor besides” he shrugged. “I’m _also_ someone who just wants to get my friend out of here safely” he furthered, his glare now levelled at the pimp; “give up now, let her go and…”

“ **No** ” the tailed man seethed; “ _no!_ You don’t get to dictate to me, not here, not in _my_ place of business!” he growled darkly: “no… you’re going to put your hands up, get over here and not try anything funny or Sven will slit that little slut’s throat, you…”

* **Crack** *

Blinking, their heads looking up at the luminated bars _swaying_ on the ceiling, Shouta only had a second to blink and throw his arms across his eyes as the sheet-metal ceiling gave way with a “ _SMASH~!_ ”

Coughing at the dust that swirled around the spacious room, the sounds of terrified screams, yells and squeals setting him on edge, the twenty-one-year-old felt himself baulk, an incredulous laughing leaving him, as _All Might_ stood (in tailored, black-pants and a pristine white shirt; God? Had he come his charity event?) on the colour-changing dance floor.

“You there~!” the blonde snapped, his right index finger pointing at the now purpled, _shaking_ lizard man; “release that young woman this instant~!”

“Don’t do it~!” Boss-sama yelped; “she’s our only leverage, _wwwooooooffffffffffff~!!_ ”

Everything then happened in a blur…

“WAH~!”

One second, everyone had been fixed in place, the next? 

“ _Yooowww~!_ ”

Boss-sama was sprawled across the floor, the lizard-fiend (and all of the hired-goons) piled atop him…

“Oooffff~!”

The _Johns_ were similarly sprinkled over the over-stuffed couch upon the dais, their ties and belts used to restrain them…

“There now, take it easy…”

Whilst the drugged, whimpering, clearly abused sex-workers had been carefully (somehow gently) placed on a platform made up of cushions and Kimiko (now free of her gag, her wrists no longer tethered) was stood beside him, her tearful form collapsing into his arms as he held her, her face pressed into his neck as he rubbed her back.

Well…

 _Shit_ …

“Shouta-kun?”

Looking up, his face definitely bewildered, the café owner smiled at the towering Symbol of Peace, a chuckle leaving him; “heh… that was quite an entrance” he grinned: “how in the world did you know I was here? I mean… thank you, but aren’t you supposed to be schmoozing snobs right now?”

Watching as the bronzed Pro chuckled, the man then snapped off a salute; “your friends Loud Cloud and Present Mic filled me in after Midoriya shounen called me~!” he replied with his usual fervour: “however, looking at how well you’ve handled the situation, my young friend, I can hardly believe that you’re not counted amongst our number~!” he laughed before, his laughter a bit strained. “I… am very pleased to see that you’re unharmed…”

Shrugging lightly whilst the woman he’d come to help carefully pulled away, he swiftly removed his apron and handed it to her, those shaking, grateful hands taking it and slipping it on to hide her exposed flesh; “well, that’s mainly thanks to you” he replied warmly. “Thank you for coming” he added before, his brows lifting a fraction; “I… I had to let the villain who tried to abduct me go” he stated, the other’s face becoming serious again: “his name is Mr Compress, have you heard of him?”

“Ahh~! That villainous fiend?!” All Might breathed, his neon blue eyes widening; “are you alright?! He’s not hurt you, has he, I’ll…”

“I’m fine… thanks to the kids” he offered quickly before pointing to the left; “I shoved him that way… he could still be around” he furthered: “he…”

“Say no more, my friend~!” the power-house boomed; “I will apprehend that villainous knave and bring him to justice~!” he assured before, a little quieter: “ugh… the police have just arrived so I will see you at the police station later, alright?”

_Shit…_

“Sure” he nodded; “good luc— and, he’s gone” he deadpanned as the legendary hero _literally_ bounced back through the hole he’d made in the roofing…

“Shouta” Kimiko breathed, her frightened face looking to him; “I…”

“POLICE~! PUT YOUR HANDS UP NOW~!”

Grunting, the pair of them doing as they were told, the eatery owner sighed…

“ON YOUR KNEES, NOW~!”

This was going to be a _long_ night, wasn’t it?

~*~

Wiping at his nose (ugh, his gloves were ruined; no amount of dry-cleaning would remove the mess, he was sure), Atsukiro sighed as he limp-stumbled through the old, industrial estate, the sound of sirens getting louder spurring him on.

Tch, he should have gotten further away by now, however, he kept looking behind him at the hidden brothel, his lips pouting with a worry he _shouldn’t_ feel for the adorable, talented, _intriguing_ man who claimed to be so ordinary (the assessment of himself honestly made) when he was anything but.

Hmm…

He probably wouldn’t have been much help with his arms so bruised though, would he?

Tch.

 _Why_ did he want to help him, anyway?

He shouldn’t, should he?

The long haired (roguish, handsome) bastard had outsmarted and outwitted him, _him_ ~!

 _The_ Mister Compress, gentleman villain…

Well, _almost_ villain, he supposed; he wasn’t exactly well-known, there wasn’t a bounty on his head and, if it weren’t for his dead-father’s reputation (God rest his crooked, clever soul) then he’d probably not have got his foot in the door and attained any clients to fund his lavish life-style, anyway.

A lavish life-style that, now he thought about it, was quite lonely…

A lavish life-style he didn’t share with anyone; hell, no one would have cared about him the way those children had cared about Aizawa-san…

Or the way Aizawa-san had cared about that prostitute (really, fucking _really_?) he wasn’t even sleeping with, his unarmed form (oh, and _what_ a form it was; he’d spotted a tapered waist and well-defined physique lurking under those baggy, black clothes) rushing into a potentially dangerous situation alone and unarmed…

A form that wouldn’t feature the cute, properly trailed maid’s outfit he’d been imaging, either.

 _Hmm_.

Well, not in the first instance, anyway.

“Mr Compress~!”

Baulking, a shudder running through him, the brunette snapped his head to a roof-top only a handful of yards behind him, his eyes narrowing to mortified pin-pricks.

No…

No it _couldn’t be~!_

“Stay where you are~!”

_ALL MIGHT?!_

Fucking _ALL MIGHT_ knew who he was~?!

_How~?!_

Yipping, he quickly stumbled into the alleyway to his left, his power activating to shrink his distressed body down and into a marble directly above a gridded drain, his consciousness (which he managed to retain where his victims did not) aware of his sphere dropping, with a clink, into a pipe-system he could roll down.

Oh… _thank God_ , he…

“You’ll not escape that way~!”

Feeling his panic spike, he felt like a hamster in a wheel as, above him, the asphalt was being torn away and two massive, blue crackling hands which were desperately trying to snatch at him.

Oh no~!

_Oh no~!_

He couldn’t go to prison~!

He wasn’t cut out for that life-style, he…

“ _God damn it~!_ ”

At the sound of the blonde’s cursing, Atsuhiro realised (his panic about being caught traded for panic about ending up in a space his human form wouldn’t be able to manifest in) that he was falling down another pipe, the glassed surface of his quirk-form pinging, clinking and clanging against the metal before, with a splash, he ended up in a (ugh, _disgusting_ ~!) sewer line.

Groaning (and more than a little motion-sick, the rancid smell all around him not helping matters) the brunette transformed with a retching cough, his body crouched in the mess.

Ugh…

But at least he was free…

God…

When he got home, when he got in the shower and slept this _awful_ evening off then he’d be sure to head back to the Noraneko on Monday…

After such a harrowing escape, he needed a delicious slice of cake and a decent cup of coffee before he started re-evaluating his life choices.

Tch…

If a man like Aizawa-san could be happy living such an extraordinarily ordinary life, well?

Maybe… just maybe he could, too…

It certainly beat having to live a life constantly looking over his shoulder for All Might, didn’t it?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's the triumphant return of the DOUBLE UPDATE people~!
> 
> XD


	25. Aftermath...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Warnings include: bullshit laws (that I made up BUT they're also bullshit because, in this life, victim-blaming is still a thing AND IT'S SO WRONG, but still), ANGST, swearing, worry/concern, reflections on what it means to help/save people, distress and...**
> 
> **FFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEELLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS~!!**

Being walked out of the brothel in handcuffs was something he’d anticipated; however, as he was led to one of the waiting police cars, he couldn’t help the disappointment he felt when he saw Loud Cloud and Present Mic (both baulking and worried) standing there, the sex workers he’d hoped would flee the scene rounded up by them along with the Johns.

 _Shit_ …

“H-hey, wait! Lieutenant, Aizawa-san is…”

“Under caution” the officious, beagle-headed officer stated when the Pros (heh, bless them) tried to wave them down; “he’ll be processed just like everyone else…”

“But…”

“It’s okay” he called, the policewoman opening the door for him momentarily stopping at the heroes’ approach; “could you let Midoriya-san, Dabi and the others know that Shinsou-san and I are alright?”

“Y-yeah, man” the sun-kissed man nodded whilst the jade eyed male hurriedly snatched out his phone; “we… we’ll head on over there, too, okay? Bakugo-san and some of her friends are standing watch over the café, too” he said, his smile a little wobbly.

Blinking, his own smile forming (heh; that was very kind of her, wasn’t it?), he nodded before sliding into the passenger seat with a sigh, his hands reaching for the seatbelt as the Lieutenant hopped into the shot-gun chair and the woman got behind the wheel.

Well, all things considered? This wasn’t such a bad ending to the night, was it?

“Aizawa Shouta, twenty-one, owner of the Noraneko Café, a fully qualified self-defence instructor _and_ a Level 7 childminder, eh?”

Humming in the affirmative, his eyes meeting the senior officer’s in the rear-view mirror as the car pulled away and they began their journey to the police-station; “as someone clearly so intelligent, it strikes me as odd that you’d run into such a dangerous situation” the older man stated bluntly. “Why in the world didn’t you call the police and let us handle the situation?”

“With respect, sir” he replied courteously (because being polite cost nothing and usually worked in his favour); “the police aren’t known for attending emergencies in this area and, if I’m not mistaken, I believe I saw someone wearing an officers uniform in one of the brothel’s rooms” he shrugged. “All I knew was that this man who called himself _Boss-sama_ wanted to have me abducted and potentially tortured… knowing that that man had one of my friends spurred me into action” he furthered. “I seized the villain tasked with kidnapping me and approached the situation logically under the assurance that I am legally permitted to use my quirk in the public-interest” he added, their eyes locking. “At the time, I believed that doing what I could in the first instance and knowing that the local Pros would intervene should limit the chance of real, lasting harm to Shinsou-san and lessen the time Boss-sama had to act against my establishment and customers” he mused.

Huffing, the man somehow managed to smirk with his dog’s jowl; “you’re a very astute young man” he praised, his serious expression returning: “and, off the record? I cannot argue with anything you’ve just said” he grunted. “I have been recently transferred to this area with a team of people whom I trust and we have been… _dismayed_ by the state of things that we’ve found” he huffed. “However, on record? I cannot be seen to condone your actions tonight as that would set a dangerous precedent” he argued; “the hero system being what it is… we cannot have vigilantes running around being a law unto themselves…”

“I acted within the constraints of the law, sir” he cut in, his expression neutral; “I believe that CCTV within _that place_ will assure you of that.”

Blinking, a laugh leaving him, the dog featured man shook his head ruefully; “you know what?” he grinned: “I wouldn’t be surprised about that at all, Aizawa-san” he chuckled.

“My name is Tsuragamae Kenji” he offered, his arms folding as they continued on their way; “and, as someone whom seems to be so well-entrenched in this part of Musutafu, I think that you and I could do a lot of good together in the future” he mused. “Perhaps, when all of this has died down, you wouldn’t mind me coming by your establishment for an informal discussion?”

“Anyone is welcome at my café, sir” he returned in kind; “however, if you’d like to come by at a quieter time, I recommend that you visit between 10:00 and 12:00” he offered: “I don’t make donuts, though.”

And, at that quip, their eyes meeting once more in the mirror, Shouta allowed himself to laugh when the other openly guffawed.

Hmm…

Having the police onboard with what he was trying to do could only be a good thing, surely?

~*~

After being walked into an interview-room, he’d been sat for a good half an hour, alone, a cup of coffee untouched before him in the stark-white, one-table, two chaired set up, the cuffs removed from his wrists and his body (now depleted of adrenaline) posed rigidly in the cheap, plastic chair.

He’d tried the coffee (just to be polite) and hadn’t taken another sip after the first one. God; how could people drink such acrid, chemical-peppered stuff? Heh… he supposed that not everyone could have his fantastic, little Italian machine that sat in his café… his café that was being guarded, of all things.

Heh…

He’d have to bake a Devil’s Food Cake just for Mitsuki and her friends to say thank you, wouldn’t he?

Tch, if he ever got out of this place…

This place where the police were probably having a field-day trying to go over everything…

A place where Kimiko and her fellow victims would be treated like criminals…

A place where, hopefully, Mr Compress was similarly being detained…

 _Shit_.

What a night; a night that was already getting on his last nerve as the frightened faces of his kids and the people he’d tried to help flittered across his mind’s eye.

But what could he do for them now while he was stuck here?

Sighing, his eyes once again returning the clock mounted on the wall (22:27), Shouta wondered if he should get up and ask for his phone-call. God, he hoped that Dabi and Tomura were okay, he hoped that Inko-san didn’t mind hosting them for this long (if they hadn’t gone back to the apartment he and older teen shared) and, most of all, he hoped that Kimiko was alright…

He hoped that she’d be released and returned to her son…

He hoped that…

“Aizawa-san?”

Blinking, Shouta found his head snapping to the door next to the two-way mirror, his brows rising as Sir Nighteye walked through the door with the Lieutenant, their expressions soft, yet grim.

Shit…

That wasn’t an expression that wanted to share good news, was it?

“You’re free to go” the beagle-headed police officer stated; “and we thank you, truly, for your patience” he added whilst placing a few papers in front of him with a pen: skim-reading them, he could see that the papers pardoned him from any wrong doing and invalidated the caution he’d been placed under. “Heh, I’d also like to formally ask you if you’d be willing, at a time of mutual convenience, of course, to potentially offer your services as a self-defence instructor to some of our rookie officers?” he pushed; “your Sensei in Tokyo and the residents who’ve come forward speak very highly of you…”

“Residents?” he asked, his eyes still reading (just to be safe; paperwork was legally binding, after all), the pen in hand.

“Ha, yes… we have _quite_ the collection of concerned citizens in the lobby all demanding to vouch for you and offering to pay for lawyers” the Lieutenant grinned, a sweat-drop or two peppering his temple; “All Might himself and Sir Nighteye, as you can see, are similarly here to show their support” he managed whilst the tallest man in the room adjusted his glasses.

“Given the circumstances” he said, those golden eyes glimmering intensely; “we couldn’t allow Aizawa-san to be detained for an extended amount of time” he furthered before, that frown deepening, he placed two, beige folders in front of him.

Slowly trying to take everything in (his customers were _here_? All Might was similarly wasting his valuable time, too? Well… as illogical as that sounded he… he couldn’t help the swell of warmth flooding his chest), Shouta signed his release papers and passed them back to the dog-featured man before giving the Pro Hero his full attention.

“Circumstances?” he asked, the warmth he’d felt tinged with concern; he had a funny feeling this had nothing to do with the legendary blonde’s birthday-cake order.

Nodding, the foresight quirk user opened the first folder, his fingers tapping at various crime-scene photos; “we found an arsonist’s tool-kit and a room set up with a chair bolted to the floor and covered in belted-buckles on the lower level of the warehouse” he said carefully. “We whole-heartedly believe, and have CCTV footage within the brothel to support this, that Okami Seto, aka Boss-sama, fully intended to cause you great, physical harm this evening” he informed him, the words causing Shouta’s blood to run-cold.

Fuck…

He’d had _no_ idea…

“Similarly, during his interrogation, he tried to claim that you were one of his clients and that this feud he’d built up between you was to do with an unsettled tab” he advised, his tone lacquered with disgust; “we, of course, have only found evidence to the contrary and we have testimonials from six people who were _employed_ by this man to counter his false statement” he revealed.

Tch…

That son of a bitch; how he would have liked to punch him himself…

“And, based on everything the police have found, including bribes linked to now former officers who have been arrested, I’m very pleased to tell you that he and all of his known associates will be serving a minimum of twenty years in prison… more if the Judge reviewing the case feels it’s warranted when the trials take place” he stated.

Heh…

Well at least that was something…

“However.”

Steeling himself, his gut twisting at that tone, Shouta couldn’t bring himself to look at the hero stood next to him because his eyes had tracked to the other folder…

A folder that had a _very_ familiar Social Services stamp on the front of it…

“As you’re no doubt aware, sex-work is illegal in our Country and, in this particular Prefecture, it carries a minimum sentence of ten years…”

Oh no…

 _No_ …

“But they’re victims” he cut in hotly, his dark eyes looking from one stoic man to the next; “you saw that place, you _saw_ what those people were being forced to go through…”

“And we have, unfortunately, a great deal of CCTV footage that shows the illegal drug use by many of those sex-workers… all of the footage shows what can be argued to be ‘ _consensual_ ’ use, too” Tsuragamae interrupted gently, his hands raised in surrender; “according to the law, that adds another ten to twelve years…”

“That’s not right” he breathed.

“It is the law” the Lieutenant sighed, his head shaking lightly; “however, you have my word that all of the people arrested this evening outside of Okami’s direct associates, who have their own legal representation, will be given the best legal teams we can offer” he added before, his head inclining to the folded he’d previously been staring at. “However, in the meantime, there is young Shinsou Hitoshi to consider.”

Sucking in a breath to settle his nerves, Shouta tried to keep his emotions in check.

“Shinsou Kimiko has asked that you be given full and total guardianship of her child” Sir Nighteye said gently; “and, given your credentials, we can have the process fast-tracked to ensure that he can be placed, directly, into your custody tonight” he offered. “Would you be willing to take him?”

“Of course I will” he huffed, his hand gripping the pen tightly; “but he _should_ have his mother” he bit out: “isn’t there _anything_ that can be done for her? Can’t she be put on parole? I’ll employ her, I can and will be held responsible for…”

“And as well-meaning and chivalrous as that is, Aizawa-san” Tsuragamae admitted, his arms folding; “sadly… there’s no denying the evidence of her… _activities_ and, unfortunately, Okami and his _associates_ have spoken out against all of the people _employed_ across all three brothels” he sighed. “We have records of payments received along with dates, times and clients serviced” he continued gruffly; “for all of his big-talk and sway, _that man_ has been meticulous in his… _business affairs_ ” he grunted as though the words put a foul taste in his mouth.

Gritting his teeth but accepting that, at this point, the best thing he could do was to care for Hitoshi, the café owner gestured at the folders, his tone tired; “where do I sign?”

~*~

Walking out into the lobby, his eyes wide and a true smile tugging his lips, Shouta couldn’t help his spirits lift as Sir Nighteye walked him through the security gates where Kohaku and many of his regulars (including the Pro Hero’s side-kicks and All Might, himself) moved to greet him…

“Are you okay?!”

He’d never been hugged so much in his life and, as he was passed along from person to person, he couldn’t help apologising for taking their time and worrying them unnecessarily…

“You’ve got to be kidding~! You could have been hurt or worse~! _Of course_ we were going to come down here and make sure that you’re alright~!”

Then, the fifteen of them pouring out and into the tepid, night-air, the Pros had arranged transport for all of them, free of charge; however, the blonde had asked if he “could have the honour of seeing you home safely, Shouta-kun?”

Nodding his ascent, a promise of seeing everyone on Monday (they’d all demanded that he take Sunday off and that they, through their contacts (many of which he’d helped them to form) would get the word out that the self-defence lessons would be postponed for a week), he waved them off into their taxis and followed the Pros to that eye-sore of a car.

Heh, it beat having to walk home, at least, but…

“I really shouldn’t be keeping you from your guests, you know” he told the man (who’d tch, opened the passenger door for him, God), the pair having waved at Sir Night whilst he and his sidekicks got into their own vehicle.

“Compared to assisting you, a few people not getting the pleasure of my company for an hour hardly means anything” the taller allowed, his well-practised hands easily shifting the purring car into gear and driving them out of the smaller, private parking lot at the back of the station. “I’m only sorry that you didn’t call me in the first instance” he furthered with a bit of a laugh; “I could have been there to assist you sooner” he mused.

“It’s not as though I don’t appreciate the gesture” he replied, the weight of Hitoshi’s Social Services folder a leaden worry in his hands; “but you’re incredibly busy and, full disclosure? I had no idea that I’d made such a potentially dangerous enemy” he said quietly, his eyes staring out of the window to his left, his frown deepening. “I’d thought… I’d _hoped_ I was making things better…”

“Ahh, but surely so many people coming to your defence shows that you well and truly are, my friend” the bronzed fighter argued.

“They’re all… very kind” he admitted, Kimiko’s face flashing across his mind’s eye; “heh… and it’s probably wrong of me to ask you this and please, if it’s too personal, there’s no need to answer” he heard himself say, his hands now gripping the folder: “how… what can you do when you’re unable to save everyone?”

Allowing a chuckle that sounded more sad than strained to leave him, All Might hummed in the back of his throat; “in my experience… you need to focus on your victories” he reasoned: “and reflecting on what you could have done differently without dwelling on it, too, is useful… well, in so much that you can try to find ways of saving the next person, next time” he murmured. “It… is difficult to realise that, regardless of what you or anyone else does… sometimes, we face obstacles that can’t be overcome so much as side-stepped” he sighed; “however… moving forward, striving to be there when you’re needed and _never_ giving up whilst keeping a smile” he said. “That is how my master taught me… and what I hope to pass on as my ultimate legacy” he offered, those neon eyes flashing at him briefly.

“Even though you’re not one to smile without due cause, Shouta-kun, I hope that the knowledge that who you are and what you do has given many people a reason to smile” he said, a softer smile stretching his lips as he turned a corner and continued to drive them back to the café; “and that, my friend, is surely something to be proud of, neh?”

~*~

Getting out of the car (All Might had deeply apologised for allowing Mr Compress to get away; he’d assured him that such an apology was unnecessary since all local Pros were on the lookout for him, anyway: also, his café was secured and he promised that he’d be careful) he’d told the other to come by for his cake order at 10:00 as agreed.

“It’s no trouble, and besides, the majority have already been made” he’d told him before waving him off to be welcomed back by a relieved Mistuki who hugged him tightly whilst her friends marched back to Inko’s apartment to alert the teens of his return.

Loud Cloud and Present Mic had asked her to text them when he came back; they and their new associates were still on the hunt for the bastard who’d very nearly delivered him into a situation that he _really_ didn’t want to think about.

Shit…

What a night…

“Shou?!”

Looking to the courtyard, his full smile returning, he threw his arms open to receive Dabi as the teen (closely followed by Tomura who he similarly pulled in) rushed to him then, after a squeeze, the flame quirk user turned him around to inspect him with a critical eye.

“Are you alright?”

“Where’s the fancy-assed prick?”

Chuckling, he grabbed the tallest teen’s hand whilst placing his other on the decay quirk user’s shoulder; “I’m fine… physically, anyway” he offered: “and Mr Compress is, sadly, still at large” he sighed, the pair scowling at the news. “That’s why I’d like to ask you to stay over for the night, if that’s okay with you?” he directed to a blinking, bewildered Tomura; “I’m not saying that you can’t handle yourself but it’s getting late and I’d much rather know that you were here and safe” he reasoned.

“Oh… ugh, yeah, sure…” the crimson eyed boy smiled, his cheeks pinking; “thanks.”

“You’re welcome” he replied, his tone relieved; “Dabi, would you mind opening up and helping to get him settled?” he asked: “I… need to go and speak with Hitoshi” he stated, the file in his hand a heavy weight.

Sharing a look, they both nodded and, after has passed the flame quirk user’s phone to him, he thanked Mitsuki and her friends for their time before walking with the older, quietly chatting woman back to the apartment block; one of her friends was going to patrol around the area until the early morning, just in case, and she was going to bed down at the Midoriya’s.

God…

What a night…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Hides behind the sofa*
> 
> Now, in all fairness... "Aizawa Shouta adopts Shinsou Hitoshi" has been in the tags since the beginning...
> 
> Kimiko is, sadly, out of the way for now BUT our boi Aizawa is gonna keep her in contact with her son, don't you worry~!
> 
> And, with this chapter... the first MAJOR plot point has been reached...
> 
> Plot point two is now underway~!
> 
> XD


	26. To Build a Family…

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Warnings include: TEARS (like... so many), misunderstandings, swearing, ANGST, worry/anxiety, FRIENDSHIP PEOPLE~! FRIENDSHIP~! And...**
> 
> **FFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEELLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS~!!**
> 
> ;_;

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wah~!
> 
> You're ALL so beautiful; thank you for your wonderful comments and support, friends~!
> 
> Also, OMGOODNESS~!
> 
> We have been blessed, friends, by the INCREDIBLE Lagt~! Look at this beautiful illustration *coughs* ART~! *coughs* of the Noraneko~!
> 
> https://twitter.com/Lagt32635680/status/1362756658439553026?s=19
> 
> I have SQUEALED over this, and you will too, I'm sure~!
> 
> Thank you Lagt~! You excellent, talented person, you~!

Quietly arriving at Inko’s apartment with midnight on the approach, Shouta was led to Izuku’s bedroom where, curled up with each other in matching, All Might-jammies, slept the two six-year-olds who’d saved the day and lived through a traumatic experience he dearly wished he could undo.

“He’s more than welcome to stay the night” the kindly woman (who was fighting back her tears; bless her heart) whispered; “I can call you as soon as he’s awake up in the morning, alright?”

Nodding (because it’d be illogical to pull him from his slumber and the adorable tangle the pair had coiled into, the number one Pro’s blanket sprawled at their feet whilst a fan slowly hummed around the merchandise peppered room, keeping them cool), he carefully followed her back into the living-space.

A living-space where, passed out on the sofa and snoring boisterously, lay Bakugo Mistsuki.

Heh, they’d only walked in together five minutes ago, hadn’t they?

Sharing a quiet laugh (because, even under circumstances such as these, trying to lighten the mood was better than giving in to the crushing sadness that was inevitable when the sun rose), the eatery owner nodded when his host offered him a glass of juice whilst they stood in the kitchen-area.

Tch, the sun-rise…

It was a time in the morning that he usually looked forward to…

A time of day when anything seemed possible, a time when hope was born…

God… he just hoped he could be everything that Hitoshi would need. He’d do his damnedest, of course… and the friends Hitoshi’d made at the café (he never mentioned ones from school), thank goodness, could also help to fill in some of the cracks of his warm, fractured heart too, couldn’t they?

Shit…

He’d forgotten about the child’s school…

He’d need to fill in all kinds of paperwork…

Which doctor was he under?

Which dentist?

_Shit…_

Casting his dark eyes towards the folder he held, he placed it down on the countertop whilst the woman whose home he occupied shuffled next to him on slippered feet; as the two, ice-cold glasses were placed beside the beige paper that brought so many memories of his own, broken childhood, he couldn’t help the weary sigh that left him…

Tch…

At least the lilac haired boy wouldn’t have to run the foster-care gauntlet like he had…

Small mercies…

“If it’s not too forward of me to say, Shouta-kun” the green haired salary-woman murmured, a friendly hand resting atop his own; “given all the possible outcomes we could have faced tonight… outside of both you and Shinsou-san returning to us safely, this is what I prayed for” she breathed, their eyes locking. “And I just know that Kimiko will be thinking the same” she tried to smile, those fingers squeezing his; “did the police say anything about when she’ll face a trail?”

“A new Lieutenant who’s leading the investigation has promised to keep me updated” he murmured, his shoulders slumping a little; “but that Boss-sama bastard hasn’t made things easier for her or the others” he sighed, his eyes screwing shut.

Damn it…

 _Damn_ everything…

Would this have _even_ happened if it weren’t for him and his _big ideas_ , he…

“Oh… oh _Shouta_ ” Inko close to whimpered; “you… you mustn’t put… put what’s happened on your shoulders I mean… my God we… what would we have done without you? I mean… _where_ would we be?” she asked, her tone tremorous. “That… that vile fiend would’ve still… still been operating and I… _we_ never would have known about Kimiko… we’d never had had our friendship… Oh! So many friendships _never_ would have existed now and Hitoshi he… he would have no one” she tried. “And Izu and Kaachan they… they wouldn’t be talking to each other and I… I just dread to think where my b-boy would be… how he’d feel if you weren’t… _if_ …” she sniffled desperately, her head shaking until…

Leaning into her, their arms seeking familial comfort and contact to chase away their grief, their shock, their tear-laced anger, the two friends shuddered against the fear that’d been eating at them, the surety of their bodies pressed together enough to keep them stable…

Enough to keep them upright as the new day rolled past the clock and, each releasing a shaky, chuckled breath, they parted, wiped their eyes, took up their glasses and settled into a comfortable silence before…

“It’s getting late” he offered, a smile trying to pluck his lips; “if he wakes up, at any time, then…”

“I’ll call you, I promise” she replied fondly; “please… try to get some rest and say good-morning to those other boys of yours” she said whilst walking him to the door.

Nodding (ahh yes, he could only hope that the teens hadn’t gone digging around in All Might’s cake order, couldn’t he?), they exchanged one more hug by the door before he made his way, his heart a little lighter, back to the home he’d built for himself.

A home that was now going to contain himself and two young people in need; hell, three if Tomura decided he’d like to stay with them, too.

Hmm…

He was going to have some serious decisions and changes to make now, wasn’t he?

~*~

Dabi met him by the door (he’d had to text him, the younger had his keys, after all), both of them offering a wave to a costumed woman scouting around the apartments’ courtyard before he walked in, his body turning to re-lock the barrier without a second thought.

Heh…

It felt good to be back in his café, didn’t it?

Mr Compress’ cane and top-hat were no longer on the floor where they’d been left but, since he couldn’t scent any smoke, he assumed that the boys had simply stored them somewhere or the Pro Heroes may have taken them; either way, he was glad _not_ to see a reminder of what _could_ have befell him only a few hours ago.

“You sure you’re okay?” the teen asked him as they made their way through the kitchen (neat, tidy; heh, he’d have to thank the young men for their efforts, later, wouldn’t he?) and up the stairs, their shoes kicked of in the little cubby space that dipped down before the living area.

“I will be” he assured, the pair of them moving to the couch where Tomura was already sat, some late-night, _illogical_ game show where men were trying to slurp-up bowls of piping hot ramen with their hands tied behind their backs; tch, how ridiculous…

“Loud Cloud and Present Mic came by ten minutes ago… I told them that they could come by tomorrow” the flame quirk user mused as they all slumped into the cushions, the raucous laughter of the judges’ panel thankfully muted as they sat together in the near darkness; “heh, by which I meant today… I can’t believe it’s only 00:20, you know?”

“You and me both, kid” he chuckled, his eyes closing; “and speaking of time… there’re gonna have to be some changes around this place right quick” he breathed, his right hand waving the folder containing Hitoshi’s documents and _everything_ he’d have to look at, sort out and get done ready for Monday. “This apartment isn’t big enough as it is” he mused tiredly; “so…”

“You need me to move out, right?”

Baulking, his eyes snapping open, Shouta snapped his face towards where Dabi was leaning against (a quietly observing, clearly concerned) Tomura so quickly he could _swear_ he’d snapped a vertebrae.

_What?_

“It’s okay” the flame quirk user shrugged; “you’ve got…”

_**What?!** _

“I’ve _got_ a plan to buy the property next door” he cut in, their eyes locking as he grabbed at the teen’s hands without thinking; “this is your home, for as long as you want it” he reiterated: “Hitoshi becoming my ward doesn’t change that, hell… all of the customers deciding they wanted to sub-let in here wouldn’t, either” he tried to laugh, the other’s turquoise eyes misting whilst he grit his teeth.

_Shit…_

He’d had no idea that the sixteen-year-old would think, even for a second, that their arrangement wasn’t stable…

“B-but…”

“No… _no_ ” he breathed whilst pulling his unresisting form closer; “my God… Dabi, I’d be greatly saddened if you _chose_ to leave but I’d respect that as a choice you _wanted_ to make” he argued when the other allowed him wrap him up in a hug. “Shit… don’t go scaring me like that” he managed to rasp out, the muted laughter floating from the television a strange backing track to the depth of feeling that flooded between them; _shit_ … were those _tears_ he could feel where the other’s face was pressed into his chest.

“We’re in this together, aren’t we?”

“Y-yeah, but…”

“Damn it… I’m sorry, I had no idea that you’d think… that you’d _thought_ this wasn’t your home” he murmured into those dark jags of hair; “I want to make this place bigger for us, _all_ of us by knocking through that adjoining wall” he promised, his gaze flitting to a still quiet, almost uncomfortable looking Tomura. “Heh… the apartment next-door is, apparently, just like this one” he told them, his hands rubbing at the teenager’s arms and shoulders; “that’ll mean everyone gets a bedroom and our resident games-master is free to join us or just sleep-over when ever he wants” he added, his smile _finally_ burgeoning when the paler child baulked at him.

“W-what?”

“O-oh… unless the pair of you will want to _share_ a bedroom in the future, neh?”

Laughing when Dabi sat up with a floundered, embarrassed curse and the shorter boy blushed to his hairline, Shouta couldn’t have been happier to have a couch cushion shoved in his face…

“S-Shou~!” the burn-scarred teen groaned, his embarrassment only rivalled by his relieved laughter; “I _knew_ you were a dirty-old-man at heart~!”

“A dirty old man who _demands_ that the wedding reception is held in our café~!” he called back, the three of them wrestling around and chuckling like they hadn’t just spent an evening almost eaten up by worries and fears…

Like they _hadn’t_ just come through an event that would reshape their lives in strange, wonderful ways that they hadn’t even thought of yet…

However, as they quieted down, his body sat in the old, love-worm couch’s centre, the café owner couldn’t help the spark of hope he felt, it’s light chasing away the darkness of the unknown, of the challenges that lay ahead because hell, he’d come this far, hadn’t he? 

So, there was no going back now, was there?

No, together?

Together he and the small, precious community, the _family_ he’d helped to build, would keep going.

It would be illogical not to…

~*~

He’d woken up early (like he usually did; there was no rest for the wicked, was there?), his body carefully detangling from where the teens had trapped him within their sleeping forms; heh, they looked irrationally cute where he’d left them, Tomura’s lightly snoring head perched on Dabi’s shoulder.

He was glad that they could both find some semblance of peace.

Then, with a stretch and a yawn he couldn’t stifle, he hopped into the shower (after checking his phone; 05:17, no calls or messages other than Loud Cloud checking in at the end of his patrol; wow… 04:30? Heh, Pros worked harder than he thought) for a thorough soak, his tired eyes unflinching beneath the warm-spray. Once cleaned, he threw he drying hair up into a full bun, changed into a maroon cap-sleeved, cat-sprinkled t-shirt with a pair of loose, black linen trousers and headed, shoeless, downstairs.

Once breakfast was made and eaten (some reheated, premade miso and a sandwich left over from yesterday; he detested waster, after all) he’d whipped up something special for the boys who’d been so brave, his mind steadily running through a recipe that he’d found on his smart-phone. He’d overhead Tomura talking about American pancakes a few days ago and sure, he didn’t have any buttermilk _but_ self-raising flour and baking-powder should do the trick, shouldn’t it? Then, the ingredients mixed (there was enough mixture to feed anyone and everyone who might show up later), he left the ample batter to chill and put the finishing touches on All Might’s order.

He was, as always, glad for having something to do; he usually thought better, faster and more logically when his hands were busy, after all and, by now, he’d done the sums, thought up three solid, financially sound business plans and, with any luck, he could hire Uraraka-san to do any building or smashing down of walls.

Also, Kohaku-san would be able to help him apply for any planning-permits he’d need when it came to expanding the café and potentially, once purchase of the older florists went through, he and the boys could head to the nearest animal shelter and start selecting cats to fill their establishment with before June was out.

Sure, such a thing wouldn’t help Kimiko’s situation _but_ , giving Hitoshi something to look forward to amidst the turmoil that was sure to come, well?

That was at least something, wasn’t it?

Especially since there’s be three birthdays to celebrate when July came to call; Denki, his ward (who he hadn’t even spoken to yet; God) and Izuku would probably enjoy having some feline party-guests at the small celebrations he’d offer to throw for them.

Heh…

If the parents allowed their kids to come back to the Noraneko after last night; he couldn’t deny that them knowing a villain had wandered in and frightened two of the tots would probably lead to some (if not all; he hoped not for Hitoshi’s sake) of the children no longer visiting.

He wouldn’t blame their care-givers, not at all.

Who in their right mind would send their offspring somewhere that could be attacked?

Sighing (tch, so much for trying to stay positive), Shouta brought his hands away from the desserts he’d been tending and studied them carefully; two dozen bunny-eared and chibi-rabbit faced cup-cakes in various colours, a large Angel’s Food Cake with “Happy Birthday” artfully calligraphed across it in English, two dozen muffins in assorted flavours (of course) and a little something extra.

The blonde hadn’t ordered them and, of course, he wouldn’t charge him; however, on the few occasions he’d ever seen an interview with the man (who was on the news every other day) he often found it strange how he definitely loved their home-country _but_ lamented being so far away from America.

And, apparently, there was nothing more _American_ than three iconic pies; key-lime, banoffee and apple.

The short-crust pastry had been child’s play thanks to the blessed coolness of his kitchen and sure, he hadn’t had _key-limes_ to hand (Kaffir should work just the same; hell, with the amount of sugar the recipe had called for, he couldn’t see that’d it make any difference) _but_ the fillings had been quick to make and _delicious_.

He’d be sure to offer the teens some of the left-over, syrupy fruit to have on their pancakes when they got up.

Hmm…

The apple pie, though, was allegeable better hot (even in this weather? Well, he could tell the man how to reheat it without it getting burned, couldn’t he?) but the others were best chilled; soon they’d be ready for him to adorn with whipped cream and flaked almonds.

Yes.

That would do nicely.

* **Bzz-bzz-bzz-bzz** *

Blinking, his eyes slanting to his phone on the worktop, Shouta sucked in an uneasy breath; Hitoshi was awake and wanted to see him.

Letting the puff of air he’d captured free, he told Inko he was on his way and asked if she, her son and Mitsuki would like to join them for breakfast.

At her smiley-faced emoji sporting a tear (heh, _of course_ ) and a thumbs up, his sighed.

He could do this…

He would.

~*~

Sitting pensively in Midoriya-san’s living room, Izuku’s attempts to speak to him not unappreciated _but_ he told him he was just too tense, too worried (too… guilty; _how_ could he have fallen asleep?!) to watch cartoons, read some manga or do, well, anything.

He’d not been able to drink the orange juice the kindly woman who’d been _so_ nice to him had poured, either.

He just wanted to know what had happened to his mom and Aizawa-san…

“Hitoshi?”

Blinking (he’d been staring, he’d realised, out of the window as the run shone across the concrete that made up the place where he and his mother had been forced to live), he snapped his head up to see one of the only people who’d made the nightmare his life had become after his father died slowly crouching down next to him by the sofa.

Bakugo-san, his friend and the similarly emerald haired woman were stood quietly in the kitchen area just behind him.

He couldn’t see his mom…

Letting out a sob, he threw himself into the man’ waiting arms before he knew what he was doing; “i-is… is _she_ d-d—”

Oh God…

He couldn’t bring himself to ask…

He couldn’t bear to think that…

“She’s alive” the nicest man (outside of his father) he’d ever met murmured reassuringly into his ear, those strong, comforting hands rubbing at his back, helping to soothe his worried hiccups; “she’s alive, she’s unharmed and, as soon as we’re able, I’ll take you to see her, alright?”

Nodding into the broad shoulder he’d buried his face into, Hitoshi tried to regulate his breathing, his relief warring with the fact that she wasn’t here…

And that could only mean…

“I-is she… she goin ta… ta jail?” he whimpered as quiet conversations where he’d challenged her, where she was going and where the yen she was getting had come from flittered across his mind.

He’d never used his quirk, he knew that that would’ve been wrong, but her breezy-lies, half-truths and the shaky reassurances that’d dribbled from her lips as she’d got him ready for school or tucked him into bed at night had all weighed heavily on consciousness.

“Hopefully not for too long” the long-haired café owner cautiously supplied; “it’s too early for us to know anything just yet but All Might himself, and his side-kick Sir Nighteye, are going to do everything they can for her and the people she worked with, alright?”

Taking in a few, deeper breaths, his hiccups dying down, he felt himself shuddering a little, his hands not releasing the death grip they had on the other’s t-shirt for fear of him disappearing, too.

“W-what” he tried after a sniff; “what’ll h-happen to me-e… now?”

Oh God…

Oh no…

Would he have to move away and live with strangers, he…

“You’re welcome to come and live with Dabi and me… if you’ll have us?”

Blinking owlishly, his head pulling away to look at the man (who wouldn’t trick him, he wasn’t cruel) bewilderedly, Hitoshi felt fresh tears bubble up his eyes.

“Y-you… you m-mean it?” he whimpered because… if this was true, if this was real then his mom would be able to find him again when she was free, she _loved_ the Noraneko almost as much as he did and they’d be able to be at the café, _together_ , with all of his friends, their adoptive older brothers, Aizawa-san and the Pros, and…

 _And_ …

“Of course I do” the adult smiled warmly, those strong thumbs carefully wiping tears away from his cheeks; “so, what d’you say? Would that be alright?”

“A-re you kiddin~!?” he laugh-cried before throwing himself back into another wrenching hug; “t-thank you, thank you, _thank you~!_ ” he wailed, his heart fit to burst because he knew Aizawa-san wouldn’t let him down, he _knew_ he’d keep trying to help his mom, he _knew_ that he’d help them to be okay, he…

Wait…

“A-ano… Aizawa-san” he murmured, a little shyly after sucking in a breath; “can… can I call you Shouta-nii from now on?”

Watching as the man (his own eyes red-rimmed; he could hear, he was sure, the other people in the room crying, too) regarded him, Hitoshi allowed his own lips to mirror the smile he could see forming there.

“Shouta-nii, huh?” he chuckled, one of those strong hands affectionately rubbing through his hair; “yeah… yeah I’d really like that” he replied fondly: “just so long as you’re okay with your friends calling me that, too, if they like?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next chapter will see some MUCH NEEDED uplifting, warm-and-fuzzies~! I think we've earned it, haven't we?
> 
> Similarly, aww~! Guys... I know that things seem grim for Kimiko right now BUT I have a plan... a plan that is believable and one that, I feel, will work out~!
> 
> Keep the faith, y'all~!!
> 
> I'm also planning a double update for tomorrow, so stay tuned~!


	27. Blessings...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Warnings include: slight angst, swearing, a smidge of sexism, Shouta-stressing (chill out cat-dad, I've got you~!) and...**
> 
> **FFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEELLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS~!!**
> 
> Wah~!
> 
> I'm still planning a double update BUT that might have to happen tomorrow, sorry...
> 
> I just HAD to post this now~!
> 
> XD

The rest of Sunday had sped by in a blur…

“Mushi-mushi, you’ve reached Habara Realty, this is Kouzuki Mai speaking, how can I help you?”

Together, the teenagers, children and Inko alongside Mistuki had tucked into stacks of pancakes within the cool, comfortable air of the café at 07:30 when, to their shared surprise, Denki, Eijiro and Katsuki arrived thanks to the blonde’s father, the (suprisingly timid) man’s relieved arms having pulled him into a hug whilst his wife cooed over them and joined in.

The boys, similarly, were fawning all over Hitoshi and Izuku; he’d moved their group to the study area with further servings after the newly arrived tots had squeezed his legs and told him to “ _never do something stupid like that again unless we’re there to protect you, Shouta-nii~!_ ”

Heh…

 _Kids_ …

“Good morning, Kouzuki-san… I’m not sure if you’ll remember me, but my name is Aizawa Shouta and I’ve recently purchased Unit 174 in the Eastern Quarter of Yondaime District here in Musutafu?”

Ochaco and Tsuyu had texted their joy at knowing that he was safe and had asked to come by, even though the self-defence lesson had been cancelled, to check in with him and their iris haired friend.

And _of course_ he’d consented.

God; when similar messages of relief and promises to drop by came from their parents, he _finally_ felt that the worry of his study group dissolving had been, thankfully, misplaced.

Kirishima-san, the tiger-mom that she was, had told him under no uncertain terms that she and her son would _always_ be his customers and, pleasantly, all of the other parents had offered him such kind, reassuring words, too.

Tsuyu’s toad-featured father had gone as far to say that he’d happily strangle any villain that wanted to threaten the café and the people in it, as well.

Heh…

He was lucky to be surrounded by such good people, wasn’t he?

“Ho? Ahh, yes~! Aizawa-san, we were all… _quite_ surprised during that sale, ahahaa~!”

By nine o’clock, the Noraneko was _bursting_ with people who, as bewildering and thoughtful as it was, had brought food for him, his ward and their teenage friends.

All of them had begged him to take some time off (well, he did have a lot to do on Monday and, after talking it over with Hitoshi, Inko and Mitsuki, he’d decided that the iris haired child would have the full week off from school so that they could get him settled into his new (albeit temporary) home) and so, with a helpless shrug, he’d agreed to it.

But just for a day or two, though…

He couldn’t help but feel, as illogical as it was, _guilty_ for not being able to feasibly see to the six-year-old’s immediate needs alongside serving the community…

Dabi had (loving, he thought) smacked him across his head with a tea-towel for fretting about the whole thing…

_Heh._

Such a good kid…

“Yes, well… I was hoping to place an offer on Unit 175 and the apartment above it?” 

Tomura had left at around 09:30 (“ _if you were serious about me staying over sometimes, I may as well get some stuff together, hadn’t I?_ ”) and had asked to come back over that afternoon; he’d hugged Hitoshi tightly and told him that they could have a “ _sleep-over_ ” so moving in would be fun instead of scary.

 _Damn_.

The smile on the child’s face had melted him and, with the living area of their current apartment the way it was, he and Dabi were going to drag the futons in there for them to do just that; the older teen was also going to help him move the Shinsou’s possessions from their old living space into the café that afternoon.

What Hitoshi didn’t need or want for the time being would be carefully packed into the storage area he had at the back of his eatery alongside everything of Kimiko’s, too.

For, when she got out of prison (Lieutenant Tsuragamae had left him a voicemail; they could visit her tomorrow at the precinct and a trial date was being set for the following Friday), he wanted the woman to have access to _everything_ she’d had to ensure that both of them would have a solid foundation to build their new, better lives together with…

“Ah? Ano… Aizawa-san… it just so happens that the current owner of that premises had a feeling that you might.”

Then, at 10:00 (right on cue; shit… he’d not been keeping tabs on the time) the place was still pretty crowded when “ _A-All~! Might~o~!_ ” came by with Sir Nighteye and a person (only an inch or two taller than the tots _but_ a fully grown _man_ ) by the name of Nedzu.

He’d seemed friendly enough and had, whilst the Symbol of Peace and his most famous supporter had happily signed autographs, been more than happy to chat with the children whilst drinking three cups of a speciality tea he stocked with a pleased, almost manic laugh. 

_Heh_

Sure, Gold Tips Imperial wasn’t something that many café’s stocked _but_ it was one he’d come across thanks to his High School’s Food Tech teacher and he enjoyed it from time to time and had baked with it once or twice; it couldn’t compete with coffee, to his mind, but the (mouse? Dog? _Bear_?) was overjoyed to swill it down…

“Oh?”

Then, the community realising that the Number One Pro was simply a customer to him, they’d bowed, hugged and departed with promises that they’d return when he was open again, wished him and Dabi well and told All Might and his fellows to “ _keep up the good work~! We love you~!_ ” on their way.

Once it was just the study group, their parents and the men who’d been so pivotal in helping him the night before, he’d presented the orders and watched, a little bewilderedly, as the blonde’s eyes had widened comically at the pies, his smile becoming wobbly.

“ _Shouta-kun_ ” he’d breathed, his hands a little shaky when he’d taken the boxes; heh, the big lug had insisted that he share the faux key-lime pie with a fresh round of coffee amongst the adults whilst he’d gifted a cup cake (“ _rabbits?! How did you know they were my favourite~?_ ”, “ _heh… your hairstyle reminded my of them, that’s all_ ”) to the merrily munching children.

The same children who’d _loved_ having their photographs taken with the heroes and their (incredibly well spoken, white-furred) associate who had been delighted with the study space; he was a teacher, apparently, and had offered him a selection of books and other useful supplies for his shelves and book-case…

“Yes… would it be possible, Aizawa-san, for you to please meet me at the Unit at about 15:00 today?”

Then, he and his regular customers (his _friends_ ) wishing the blonde a happy birthday and seeing them all drive off, 11:00 had come about which saw the other kids and their guardians similarly leaving so that he, Hitoshi and Dabi could meet with the landlady Kimiko had _just_ managed to pay-off before, well, _everything_ had _kicked off_.

She’d been nice enough (if a little gossipy: “ _umm, such a sweet, pretty girl… she should have focused on getting herself another husband, if you ask me_ ”: tch, no one had but at least she only spoke in whispers and out of the six-year-old’s earshot), let them in and told him not to worry about that month’s payment.

She’d find someone else to take the place soon enough and she wasn’t above… _sympathy_ , thank God.

Sadly, there hadn’t been a great deal for them to take; they’d packed up Kimiko’s clothes, family photographs and the wedding rings she and her husband had worn alongside Hitoshi’s All Might’s poster, a stuffed bear (a gift from his father) and his personal effects.

The Landlady had insisted that her son (“ _he’s a strapping lad and very fond of those delightful cakes you make, Aizawa-san… he brings one home to share with me every Thursday, don’t you know_ ”) would bring the futons and bedding over for them.

The furniture, however, belonged to the apartment; he’d tried to slip her 5000yen for the All Might night-light and she’d laughed, unplugged it and given it him with a huff (“ _let the boy keep it, I don’t think they make this model anymore, anyway_ ”) before she’d seen them out and given Hitoshi a friendly pat on the head…

“Certainly” he replied, his brows lifting a fraction; “I’ll see you then…”

Which’d meant by 13:00, all of them still stuffed after their morning of treat eating, he’d watched Dabi scoop the child up (his giggle was wonderful to hear) and walk him to the gaming area so that he could start filling in the paper-work (thank God you could do most things online these days) and call the Realters.

As he ended the call, however, he couldn’t help light frown tugging his lips; what if the current owner didn’t want to sell to him?

Could… could the old flower-shop have belonged to Boss-sama or one of his associates?

 _Shit_.

There was nothing he could do if that was the case; you couldn’t legally force anyone to take or consider offers and, although he had every faith that he could get a mortgage on the place, he didn’t have the capital to go above the asking price.

Tch.

He supposed he could look into making their current apartment a duplex _but_ , with his current square footage, a true “cat-café” just wasn’t viable and, to get planning permission to build into the apartment complex’s courtyard wouldn’t be easy, either.

Even just applying for permission would be… _pricey_.

Damn…

~*~

He’d not told the boys about his concerns; he’d completed all of Hitoshi’s paper work and made a list of numbers he’d need to call tomorrow (from the school, who’d need to be informed in the first instance (he and Social Services had already emailed the Principal) to his doctors, dentists and Quirk Registry Office) and made himself a few coffees.

Then, as 15:00 flashed up on his phone, he took a breath, told the children that he was just heading next-door (to have a look around and meet the Agent; he’d asked them to stay where they were with the excuse that the old shop hadn’t been safety checked) and walked out of the Noraneko with a hum.

He’d played over a few eventualities in his mind (it didn’t matter how man times he crunched the numbers, either; getting into excessive debt wasn’t going to do him or the boys under his care any good, was it?) and decided that the most logical approach to the situation was best.

He’d meet with the realter, be polite, cast a critical eye over the former florists and hope for the best.

In the worst-case scenario Hitoshi could have his room and he’d sleep in their living room; he didn’t exactly get many hours’ worth of shut-eye, anyway, so it’s not as though it’d be detrimental to his health, really.

Tch.

He’d work something out, he could do this, he’d come too far to…

“Hora~ Aizawa-san~”

Blinking out of his reprieve (he’d rounded the café and waved at the boys who’d waved back at him through the last of the bay-windows), Shouta could see whom he presumed to be Kouzuki-san, her slight-frame and beaming smile an excellent disguise for the blood-thirsty world she worked in.

“Good afternoon” he replied with a polite bow, which she returned; “thank you for arranging this meeting today” he furthered, his eyes clocking the Unit’s portfolio held in her dainty hands whilst she smiled at him in a way that seemed…

“Maa~ let’s go inside, shall we?”

 _Strained_.

Nodding, he watched as she pushed the unlocked door open (shit… he it been broken into and vandalised? The photographs on their website hadn’t shown any damage) and stepped inside.

Swiftly following, he was quite surprised to see that the interior had been stripped (he’d not seen anyone going in and out of the place; although, he supposed, he didn’t exactly leave the café on weekdays or evenings, did he?) down to its four walls.

A blank canvas.

“I won’t bore you with the square footage or other such details as they are, of course, just the same as that _adorable_ café of yours~!” she veritably chirped; “I must confess that my colleagues and I thought that your enterprise may have been… _ill-advised_ but, you’ve just gone ahead and proved us wrong now, haven’t you~” she tittered. “I should imagine that your wife is simply _thrilled_ ~!”

Taking in the area, his mind’s eye imagining the toilet block of his eatery removed (and rehoused; yes, having two sets of toilets, one on either side of the cat enclosure so the felines could always see people and be appreciated _but_ ensuring anyone with allergies didn’t need to enter the _glass-box_ he’d thought up) Shouta hummed. “I’m not married” he replied absentmindedly, his imagination seeing another two booths by the windows, two more sets of tables and chairs, another study table with, maybe later on, some computers for the more disadvantaged people of the area to use.

Hmm…

“What~? Why, how in the world a catch like _you_ has managed to stay off the market is quite the mystery~” he heard her prattle on whilst he saw the kids all happily playing with the cats he was going to give _the_ best life too.

Hmm…

With the additional square-footage he’d need to hire someone else, wouldn’t he?

‘ _Don’t get ahead of yourself… don’t get your hopes up… focus on something else…_ ’

“I’m too busy to think about committing myself to someone right now” he shrugged lightly (because it was true; and besides, he’d never _seen_ what a _romantic_ relationship looked like so he was _pretty sure_ he’d be unable to form one, therefore, why bother looking for anything like that? Such things were… _illogical_ ) before, with a blink.

“Kouzuki-san, is that…”

“Ahh~! Yes, the current owner has recently added it~ you’ve got good eyes~!”

Walking over to the back wall, he felt his eyebrows raise when he was met with a premium grade extractor-fan, the _exact_ kind of equipment health and safety advisers rated highly when it came to eateries which housed live animals; the HEPA filter was brand new and would eradicate most allergens.

Hmm…

 _Why_ would the person whom owned a flower shop that hadn’t been open for the past three years install such a thing?

Shit…

Was someone else looking to open this Unit _as _a florist, once more?__

___Shit_ …_ _

__“Now, if you’ll follow me” the woman, still brightly smiling, called whilst approaching the door that, in his own home, led to his industrial kitchen; when he looked around what he’d initially seen as a flower-storage facility he could see that, like the largest area of the of the building, it’d been stripped back. Curiously, the back wall was lined with wide, sturdy shelves (ideal for holding cat crates) and cupboards covered the rest; did… did they look _new_ as well?_ _

__Hmm…_ _

__Damn everything, he’d have _no_ chance of buying this place now it had so much potential to become a viable space for all kinds of business._ _

___**Shit!** _ _ _

__“Let’s go upstairs to view the apartment, shall we?”_ _

__Nodding (tch, he should just thank her for her time, go home and start finding ways to bring Plan B to life, shouldn’t he?), Shouta walked up a familiar set of stairs, his hands running along a strangely dust-free banister as he reached the top, turned and walked into the living area…_ _

__“ _Surprise~!_ ”_ _

__A _living area_ where Mimi-chan and _the girls_ were standing, a “WELCOME HOME~!” banner strung up over them._ _

__“W-what?”_ _

__Blinking (shit… his eyes were tearing, weren’t they?), the realter stood to one side, her hands snapping photos on a disposable camera as the five women rushed him, the hug he was in the middle of bewilderedly returned._ _

__“Oh~ Shouta-kun, what d’ you think, neh?”_ _

__Looking to Mimi-chan, her kindly face filled with warmth (and a few tears besides), the café owner found that he couldn’t really talk._ _

__What…_ _

__What was happening?_ _

__“O-oh, careful… Ran-chan, get him a seat, would you deary?”_ _

__Finding himself sat, he further found that he couldn’t look away from her as she ran a warm, motherly hand over his jawline; “maa, maa~ so you like it, hmm?”_ _

__“I… I’m not quite sure what’s…” he tried, his gaze looking around the living room (that had relatively new furniture (a couch, two chairs) in it and a family-sized kotatsu table (sans a thick, warm blanket since it was summer time) that featured a beautiful vase of flowers) before he looked back to her._ _

__“Why, Shouta-kun, this old place used to be mine” Mimi-chan chuckled, her friends laughing behind their hands beside her._ _

__They were tearful, too._ _

__“And I want you to have it” she smiled, her aged hands grabbing his; “and I want you to fulfil your dream of having a true cat-café for all of us to love and enjoy~”_ _

__She…_ _

__She was _giving_ him the Unit?_ _

__No…_ _

__No that was…_ _

__He couldn’t possibly…_ _

__“Shouta-kun” she breathed, her violet eyes swirled with pleasure; “would you do me the great honour of taking this old wreck and breathing life into it again?”_ _

__“B-but” he tried; “that’s… you… I…”_ _

__“Ahh, what did I tell you, ladies?” she chortled; “I have no need of your money, young man… I have an excellent pension and this place was just sitting here, unloved and rotting like so many of us” she mused, her friends nodding: “and then in you blew, like a summer-storm, to blast our cobwebs away and make this area worth living in again~!” she smiled. “I’m much too old to return to my craft and, with my children all living overseas, I was at a loss… the girls and I, there was nowhere for us to go outside of the busy-busy high-street” she huffed; “I cannot tell you what an oasis the Noraneko is for us” she furthered before, with a grin._ _

__“Ano… you will accept this gift of mine and give us lots of kitty-cats to spoil now, won’t you?”_ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **;_;**
> 
> Why do I do this to myself?
> 
> MIMI-CHAN~! YOU ARE THE MVP~!


	28. Community…

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Warnings include: a smidge of angst, swearing, tears and...**
> 
> **FFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEELLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS~!!**

As unbelievable as it was, Shouta found the deeds to the property handed to him with a pen by (a still strained smiled; ahh… this wasn’t exactly a sale, was it? Heh, the poor woman had been a remarkable good sport considering she wouldn’t be getting any commission, wasn’t she?) Kouzuki-san. Then, a few signatures and a bottle of sake later, the former florist and its apartment were his…

No…

It was _theirs_ ; not just him and the boys whom he supported _but_ the community’s.

God, he…

He didn’t know what to do or say or think, he…

“Maa~ should we not get Dabi-kun over, hmm? Oh, and did I see that wonderfully polite Shinsou boy in the café, too?”

Blinking (oh… oh yes! Yes, they should be here too; hell, he could trust the flame quirk user to smack him if this was all some kind of strange, wonderful delusion, couldn’t he?), Shouta felt himself nodding; “M-Mimi-chan” he breathed: “Hitoshi is my ward now you… you can’t begin to understand what having this extra room will… will mean” he managed.

“O-oh, oh my, oh dear~!” the wonderful, older women seemed to coo at once; “good heavens~! So that’s why you approached the realter” the woman he’d addressed gushed, a hand fanning at her face: “we were planning to surprise you with this gift at the end of the Sanno Festival next week~!” she told him. “Goodness~! How fortuitous that we were ready, hmm? It must be the work of fate or the Gods, neh?”

Heh…

Maybe so…

Fishing out his phone, he sent a quick text to Dabi (“I need a reality-check, could you both come over after locking up the café? We’re upstairs”) and accepted a small cup (from the pretty, ornate set that Yukiko had brought over for the celebration) of the rice-wine (heh, because this is apparently what you did during such occasions) from her.

“I just… please, Mimi-chan, I can’t just _take_ this place” he said, his tone awed and disbelieving; “surely I can…”

“I don’t want a single yen from you, young man” she warned, her tone strict yet kind; “now then… I believe that we have some visitors to greet, now, don’t we?”

Swallowing thickly (because this… _this_ was more than he could ever have hoped for; with yen he’d been putting aside for a deposit, he could quite easily pay Uraraka-san to come by to do the work that was needed _and_ , upon closer inspection of the paper-work, he could see that the Unit had a full and complete survey; everything was up to code…

They could, theoretically, get to work straight away…

Well, once Kohaku-san gave him the all clear…

Hmm…

Should, _could_ he call him now? The man had already been so kind and had spent the previous evening at the police-station (there in his defence, of all things) before visiting them this morning; he’d given him a warm hug and told him “ _try not to worry too much about the fools out there; they’ll be rooted out in the end, you know?_ ”

Heh…

Such a good man…

No, he’d call him tomorrow; there was no point rushing things and hell, this could all be some kind of strange, hallucination he was experiencing…

Maybe he’d been knocked out by one of Boss-sama’s goons and this was _all_ a dream?

Tch, it was an irrational thought, however, that’d make a lot more sense than Mimi-chan just _giving_ him a property that would solve the majority of his problems…

And make life, in general, _so_ much better…

“Umm… hey?”

Looking behind him (where three of the loveable older ladies were flocking to them), Shouta grinned from an owlishly blinking Dabi to the bewildered child in his arms; “heh… so I’m not dreaming, then?” he heard himself chuckle as they were brought into the room.

Hell.

And surprises went, this was a pretty spectacular one, wasn’t it?

~*~

The rest of the afternoon and evening had been… _lively_.

Many of the adults who usually attended self-defence lessons had called or texted him to offer any help they could with messages that promised to come by, at some point, before the following Sunday to check in on them; by now the rumour mill had done its job and most were aware that Hitoshi was living with him.

Wonderfully, he’d not heard any derogatory comments about Kimiko; living in an area that was, for the majority, so run down and filled with people who had their own struggles (with money, poverty, addiction and quirk-bias), he figured (and was pleased to see) that sympathy was enmeshed within many of them.

Especially since many of the men and women who _worked_ in Boss-sama’s brothels would more than likely live locally, too.

He was glad that Sir Nighteye would try his best to look out for all of them; God, as much as he would have wanted to help, he had his hands quite full at the moment, didn’t he?

However, it was for them (and people like them who’d been driven to such choices through lack of education, broken homes, abuse and who knew what else) that he wanted to enhance the study area and work towards making a place where people could build their skills and actively look for work, as well.

Yes…

If he could help people not to turn to that kind of _work_ (not that he was judging; he knew and understood that some people, sometimes even because of their quirks, enjoyed sex and _wanted_ to be paid for it) or villainy in general (the biggest crime-statistics around here revolved around robbery, after all) then he’d feel better…

He'd be making even more of a difference…

Hmm…

A difference too late for the dusky-lavender haired woman whose son he was supporting _but_ , since time-travelling wasn’t an option, he just had to keep going.

It was the only, logical choice and, wouldn’t their news of the café’s up-coming extension be something wonderful to share with her when they saw her tomorrow?

Hitoshi was, his little face smiling (so God damned brave) diligently drawing some pictures for her now as he sat in the study area whilst Dabi had ventured out in the balmy heat to meet Tomura half-way, his smile delighted and a promise to help the boy colour in a few of his drawing when he and the other returned lilting in the air as he went. 

Such a good kid.

And, knowing how these things worked (prisons and holding facilities had to be wary, he knew; people could infuse their powers into all kinds of things these days) he’d checked with the Lieutenant that the child would be able to give them to her.

The beagle-headed man had promised, on his honour, that she could have and keep them regardless of Friday’s trial and its outcome.

Shit…

There shouldn’t even _be_ a trial, should there?

“Mushi-mushi, Uraraka Ryou speaking.”

 _But_ , what could he do?

It’d be illogical to have spent his life trying undo the underlying reasons behind the rise in villainy (well, as feasibly possible, anyway) _just_ to turn around and try to break the woman out of custody, wouldn’t it?

Tch.

What a stupid thing to think; his heart couldn’t help but long for such a solution, though…

“Uraraka-san? This is Aizawa from the Noraneko Café… I was wondering if I could hire you to do some construction-based work?”

Then, as 17:00 crept up on him, he’d looked outside (a flash of guilt for not running the evening classes quashed when the teens had returned, Tomura sporting a small, duffle bag, a smile and “ _congrats, cat-dad… now do us all a favour and rest for a hot-minute, or something… you don’t want stress-lines at your age, do you?_ ”) and decided to make a few calls.

“Eh?! Aizawa-san~! Of course~!”

Feeling himself smile at Ochaco’s father’s enthusiasm (heh; he could tell that the man had loved his craft and _hated_ working at the 7-11: it was only a shame that he couldn’t employ him full-time), Shouta chuckled.

The man had insisted on coming by that evening (“if that’s okay?”) with his wife and child; he’d make an evening meal for all of them as a thank you, of course and, just like that, everything started coming together…

~*~

When a rickety, old Kei-truck pulled up next to the road at 18:00 he was further surprised to see the local Pro trio (“ _Heh, just call us Loud-Mic-Night~! That’s pretty cool, huh? That’s our official twitter-handle _and_ what I call the part of my soon to be award winning Radio-show’s late night, Sunday segment, ya know~!_” the audacious blonde had grinned whilst using _finger-guns_ the previous Friday), too.

“Tch, they could probably smell what you’re cooking… the bunch of moochers” Dabi he huffed with an eye-roll that he knew to be more fond then derisive; whether they liked it or not, the enthusiastic heroes had weaselled their way into their café culture and, regardless of his dismissal of them, he knew that the teen enjoyed the banter they shared.

Tomura, however, still seemed a little cautious around them; sure, the boy was friendly enough _but_ he rarely started conversations or joined in any that he wasn’t directly included in.

Hmm…

Not that he _had_ to socialise with them, of course.

He just didn’t want the shy boy to feel left out, that was all.

He’d come along way in the two weeks that he’d been coming to the Noraneko and he was hoping that, little by little, they could chip away at his self-esteem issues and help him to keep on smiling.

Heh…

All Might and Izuku were _really_ rubbing off on him, weren’t they?

“Hey~! Shou-chan, Dabi-dabs, my main man Toshi and Tomy-Tomura~! How are some of our favourite listeners doing, neh?!”

Waving the blonde in (yep, he was clearly being led by the nose alongside his female partner who was wrapped about his shoulders, their stomachs _actually_ rumbling as they leaned against the service-bar he was stood behind) whilst the teens waved from where they lounged in the gaming area whilst Hitoshi rushed over to greet them.

Watching as the blonde caught the tot in his arms and lifted him up for him and Midnight to fuss over, Shouta then looked to where Loud Cloud was walking with the Uraraka family, the thrilled brunette riding on a nimbus he’d made for her.

Damn, that was cute.

“Well, since you’re here, would you like to join us for dinner?” he deadpanned when the heroes made that _puppy-dog_ look at him before nodding rapidly and filling up the booth behind Dabi’s preferred haunt.

Everyone knew that, outside of busy hours, the stall closest to the door, was his.

Shaking his head ruefully, he watched as Hitoshi and his friend were _flown_ back to the study area where the girl’s mother (she was looking far less pale today; her eyes were brighter, too) went to join them, her polite form offering a pleased greeting to the teenagers who similarly returned the gesture.

“Dinner won’t be ready for while yet” he advised them before nodding at the man he’d originally invited; “so we can head next door…”

“Wait~!”

“What~?!”

“Ahh~! Does this mean that the cat-café is a go~?!”

Smiling despite himself when the Pros baulked and clapped their hands excitedly, Shouta gestured to Ryou; “Uraraka-san is hopefully going to tell me what I can and can’t do before I start applying for planning permission _but_ , thanks to Mimi-chan, the Unit now belongs to us” he told them, his smile spreading further.

“That’s amazing~!” the trio called, their arms raising in a cheer; “oh~ can we come and have a look see?” the sun kissed man asked: “ahh~! And we can help, too, you know? I’m pretty great with a paint-brush~!”

“I’m spectacular at cleaning~! Umm~! I’ll get to use my _favourite_ feather-duster~!” the woman added, her face filled with delight.

“And I’ll put together a “construction work” playlist to keep us all going~ oh yeah~!” Mic grinned as they all got up and made to follow him and the sandy-haired man who was already sporting his utility-belt and a note-pad, his own grin excited.

Nodding (because how could he say no to those faces? Tch, he was getting soft), he grabbed his new set of keys and looked back to the younger people still enjoying their game with Hitoshi, Ochaco and her mother playing _look-out_ ; “we’ll be ten minutes” he told the other: “call me if…”

“You’re next-door, Shou” Dabi chuckled out, his eyes locked on the TV screen whilst he and Tomura _fought_ some kind of demonic-beast; “I think we can handle everything until you get back so go on and show-off those awesome ideas of yours” he told him. “It’s about time you took more pride in yourself and alla the stuff you do, you know?”

~*~

Walking into the Unit…

“Okay, let’s find the load-bearing walls, take some measurements and see what we’re dealing with~!”

Had felt even better than the first time around…

“Well, good news, your plan to knock-through the toilet-block in the Noraneko as it is should be fine… I can redirect the water pipes to add some new bathrooms over here and… here; hmm, once the old system has been cemented up, more linoleum should cover it up nicely, too!”

Already he could see, he could _tell_ that the layout would work; sure, the changes wouldn’t happen over night _but_ he could hardly ask for more miracles, could he?

Not after so many had already sought him out…

“Wow, this storage space is excellent… the health and safety inspectors won’t be able to fault you having a separate area for animal maintenance, especially since it’s so far away from the kitchen.”

There was also the added bonus of the old florist’s door that could be used as a further fire-exit _and_ , thanks to Mimi-chan’s kindness, he wouldn’t need to go through the costly mither of outfitting the space with anything other than furnishings, cat-products and a few air conditioning units… 

“Man, oh man~! How much of this will be the cat enclosure~?!”

“I was thinking” he mused, his hands gesturing; “that the greater part of that space there could be cordoned off with glass-walls and doors… the toilet that exists now could be used by the people inside the cat-habitat and we could build some larger ones here to service everyone else” he said. “That way anyone with allergies has access and it should limit queueing, too” he allowed before moving to the currently, metal shuttered window; “two booths can share this window and then, just here, two more tables” he grinned. “Then this area is going to be a continuation of the study-space with a careers’ hub… _eventually_ , and…” stopping, with a blink, he regarded his _audience_ his cheeks pinking; “heh… sorry, I’m ranting, aren’t I?”

“It’s… you… you’re just so~!” Mic tried whilst fanning his eyes, his friends nodding along; “I mean, this sounds _amazing_ and _logical_ ~!” he praised before throwing a leather clad arm across the younger man’s shoulder: “I can _see_ it, you know~!” he crowed before, his own blush forming. “Ano… I was wondering if, ugh, on a Sunday? We could, ahh, _maybe_ have my birthday party here, you know, as civilians?”

Observing the audacious blonde (who had a heart to just as big as his voice was loud) curiously, Shouta looked to where Midnight was talking poor Uraraka-san’s ear off as he was measuring before regarding him and the taller man who was stood at his other side, those golden hands shoved together in prayer.

“Well… if you’re okay with being out of costume, I’m sure we could get some blinds to cover the windows, or something” he offered; “when’s the big day?”

“ _Wah~!_ ”

“ _You mean it~?!_ ”

“I’m not in the habit of saying things I don’t mean” he huffed, his head shaking ruefully; “I’ll be hosting parties for some of the study group too, so… June 29th and July 1st will be a joint party for Hitoshi and Denki on Sunday 30th with Izuku’s happening on the 15th…”

“ _My birthday is July 7th~!_ ” the boisterous blonde cried in a muted stage-whisper; “ _this is perfect~!_ ”

Chuckling at his enthusiasm, the eatery owner allowed himself to be pulled into a hug with the man whilst Loud Cloud _somehow_ managed to wrap around them both.

If Ochaco’s father had laugh-snorted loudly when Midnight bowled them all to the floor when she leapt atop them, then he was too busy being gruffly-annoyed, shoving the laughing idiots off of him and grunting curses to notice…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's the return of the DOUBLE UPDATE~!
> 
> Umm...
> 
> Get your tissues ready, folks~!
> 
> ;_;


	29. Bittersweet…

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Warnings include: ANGST~!! Visiting someone who is incarcerated/visiting-area setting, UPSETTING/HEARTFELT SCENES, swearing, ANGER, worry and...**  
>  **FFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEELLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS~!!**
> 
> Like... so many, many feels~!
> 
> ;_;

By the time Sunday ended Uraraka-san had drawn up some _amazing_ plans, outlined the arch-way he’d knock through (when allowed) for the café and the upstairs apartment and had promised that a friend of his could do the plumbing (he was an experienced man similarly forced out of his job due to bigger, contracting companies), too.

The landlady’s son had come by, as promised (he was a many who could grow and shrink at will with four arms; it’d been easily for him to bring the futons and bedding) and he’d rewarded him with a chocolate sponge cake layered with jam and Chantilly cream.

He’d been delighted and said that he’d be more than happy to help out when the building work started, as well.

Then, as discussed, he and the boys had, transformed their current living room into a camp-out setting; it’d been a little fiddly _but_ they’d managed to craft tents out of bed-sheets, old curtain-rods and pillows. Then, bowls of corn-chips, poky and mochi passed around, they’d lay on their fort-like futons, talked about the kinds of cats they were going to adopt and played a few rounds of Uno. Hitoshi and Dabi, so much more competitive than even a gleeful Tomura (who’d rushed to the boy’s aid), had gotten into a heated match that the child ultimately won, his little form ecstatic as the teen conceded and gave him his last, strawberry pocky as a prize.

The child had snapped it into four pieces and shared it out amongst them which hadn’t made him and the older boys melt, not at all.

However, the night’s frivolity couldn’t save them from Monday.

He’d woken up at his usual time, gone on a run with focused Katsuki and determined Izuku; he’d left the iris eyed boy to sleep-in.

He’d need all of his strength for what they’d face that afternoon.

Then, after coming home and whipping up tamagoyaki for them all, the teens had offered to take the tot shopping (“ _you want to look your best when you see your mom, don’t you?_ ”) with the decay quirk user insisting that _he_ pay for the trip (“ _I’ve never had a little brother to spoil, so just let me, okay?_ ”).

Allowing the kind gesture (and texting Dabi to tell him if his partner went overboard), Shouta had watched them head out a 09:00, waved at some of the customers who’d told him that “ _we look forward to seeing you tomorrow, Aizawa-san~!_ ” and got on with contacting the child’s school.

The Principal had been full of understanding; she’d told him that a study pack was being put together and that Hitoshi’s Home Room teacher, the same one who’d given him an A+ on his Report, would be bringing it by for him that evening. She’d wished him well, wished him luck and had given him her personal phone number: “ _we’re a school that doesn’t tolerate bullying, Aizawa-san… however, children can be cruel so please, if Shinsou-kun needs or wants anything, do not hesitate to call me_ ”.

Heh…

That was reassuring, at least.

Then, at 10:00, with all of the calls placed and Tomura having sent him a photograph of his ward in a smart white-shirt with a navy-blue blazer and pants in an Outlet store, he’d smiled, typed back a thank you and praised his “big-brothering skills” which were “on par with Dabi’s by now”.

The outraged message that the older teen had shot back (“tch~! It was _my_ idea to go to this store, you know~! He’s got a long way to go before he reaches _my_ level, you crazy not so old guy~!”) had been hilarious.

And endearing.

Sighing to himself (he and Hitoshi couldn’t go to the Precinct before 14:00) he decided to keep himself busy by calling Kohaku-san (“ahh~! That Mimi-chan is quite the minx, isn’t she? I’m free this evening after 18:00… shall I come over so we can see what forms you need to fill in?”) and getting his prep-work done for tomorrow.

Chopping up fruit, pickling vegetables, steeping syrups, whipping up various batters and portioning rice wasn’t exactly glamorous _but_ it was necessary and it’d be irrational to waste this precious time, wouldn’t it?

Once completed, he made a couple of orders, received a few as well (hmm, they’d have to start shopping for cat-toys, crates, beds, litterboxes and the like soon, too; finding a decent vet was also a priority) and, as he moved bags of flour from the back-step where the delivery man had placed them, he heard his laptop * **ping** *.

Patting his hands, he walked out of the kitchen’s larder to where he’d temporarily placed his laptop (which usually lived in his bedroom) on the back bench where Dabi usually ate his breakfast, his eyebrows lifting as one of the “feeler” emails he’d sent out to the cat-shelters closest to his establishment was replied to.

Humming, he clicked onto the message, his eyes widening.

Heh…

So much for not getting any further miracles…

~*~

When the boys returned, Hitoshi was becoming a little more pensive but was trying his best not to show it.

God, it tore at his heart.

However, after a quiet chat with him, he’d helped him to work through his tears and then whisked him back upstairs for a quick, power-nap; Dabi had offered to keep watch over him whilst he did some more online, catering courses on their ancient desktop computer in the living-room since Tomura had had to go home to complete his own school work.

Then, they’d had lunch, he’d changed into his black dress-pants, white shirt and red-silk tie (his hair was up in a half-bun, his face clean-shaven) and, together (Dabi had been quietly touched when the boy asked for him to come along; the kid cleaned up really well in a similar get-up to his own) they’d hopped into the taxi he’d ordered.

The journey to the Precinct had been… _quiet_.

Tch, well it wasn’t as though anyone sang, laughed or played car-games on the way to such things, was it?

 _God_.

“Ah, Aizawa-san, good afternoon.”

They’d been greeted, oddly enough, by Lieutenant Tsuragamae who’d walked them from the lobby to the small, quiet visiting area; the holding cells in this part of Musutafu were relatively unused since most of the criminals around these parts were violent, drug-addled or possessed powerful quirks. This meant, of course, that most were hauled straight off to Tartarus before any due processing, court-dates or trials.

He thanked his lucky-stars that Kimiko would _never_ be sent to that hellish place.

“Usually, you’re allowed half-hour visits twice a week but… given the circumstances, I’ve been able to give you an hour each time” the beagle headed man had quietly advised whilst the boys cautiously looked around the stark corridors, Hitoshi’s hands pressing the pictures he’d made to his chest.

“Thank you” he replied whilst, internally, he felt like punching something; shit… his ward could only see his mother _twice_ before her trial? A trial that, for legal reasons thanks to the _nature_ of the criminal-acts lodged against her, the boy couldn’t attend?

 _Shit_.

_Shit!_

“And here we are.”

Sucking in a breath, Shouta nodded at the two guards who opened the barred door for them, the feel of the child grabbing onto his leg halting him; “would you like me to carry you in?”

“U-um!” 

Nodding (and being mindful of the precious gifts the child wanted to present), he carefully pulled the tot into his arms and lifted him up before he walked inside; blessedly, there were no other visitors (their next visit would be on Thursday at 11:00; he’d close the café for lunch, it wouldn’t be a problem) and, in the room dotted with bolted-down tables and chairs, there sat Kimiko… 

“T-Toshi?”

Walking over (he’d checked to make sure that the mother and son could touch each other; Tsuragamae had grunted but allowed it: this was somewhat a special case, wasn’t it?), he tried his best to smile for them whilst carefully depositing the tot next to his mother who (thank God) wasn’t shackled.

She was, however, wearing a greyed jumpsuit with a number (bold and black) stamped over her heart.

Shit.

“M-mommy~!”

Watching as the child he’d eased back to the floor ran the short distance the woman (who looked tired but relieved, the pallor of her skin much healthier then when he last saw her), Shouta found himself wrapping an arm around Dabi’s shoulder as the teen shuffled beside him.

“O-oh Toshi~! Look how at how _handsome_ you a-are! Oh… you look _just_ like your daddy, you know? Ahh~! And you drew these for me? T-they’re beautiful, honey, thank you~!”

Struggling to keep his emotions in check (the last thing they needed was for him to break down; tch, maybe he’d call All Might later and ask him to stand there whilst he punched all of his grief and anger out: he was sure the other wouldn’t feel any of his blows, at least), the café owner let out a shaky sigh.

“Aizawa-san? May I have a word with you… in private?”

Blinking, he turned to the Lieutenant who, the rational part of his mind was telling him, _had_ actually gone out of his way to _help_ (the angry, protective side of his brain, however, wanted to lash out at the sheer _ridiculousness_ of it all; it was a damned good job he hadn’t gone into law… he would have ended up killing someone, he was sure). Then, with a quick nod to Dabi who scowled at the officer before moving to sit on the chair opposite the reunited family-members, he walked back towards the doorway where the two guards ( _unnecessary, needlessly intimidating_ ) were stoically stood.

“We’ve been given a Judge for her trial” the dog-headed man relayed quietly; “All Might’s legal team have done the best job that they can… but, some of the CCTV footage we’ve uncovered is, given the circumstances, quite damning” he sighed, his head shaking. “However, regardless of the sentence because, well? In all honesty it’s in her best interest to plead guilty for a more lenient term _and_ the opportunity to join her fellows in speaking against Okami… she will, at least, be sent to a medium-security prison in Tokyo” he told him. “On the plus side? The Tokyo Detention House in Katsushika offers rehabilitation, educational facilities and open-aired spaces including a garden that inmates can tend to” he offered; “it’s considered to be one of the… _better_ places to be.”

Frowning softly (he knew that Detention Houses were more humane and holistic compared to what they’d been historically _but_ the whole thing still didn’t rest easy on him), he said: “and you’re certain that there’s _no_ way she can avoid a sentence?”

“Aizawa-san…”

“Does coercion and personal circumstances truly mean so little?” he pushed quietly for fear of the other’s hearing him.

“Unfortunately, in these kinds of situations, the law is very clear” Tsuragamae replied, his arms folding; “and without laws, there’d be chaos… even if, as you say, some are long due an overhaul” he murmured before, his shoulders straightening.

“I’ll leave you to your visit.”

~*~

The hour had flown by.

Hitoshi told his mother all about the café, Mimi-chan’s wonderful gift, the cats and how he’d be having a birthday party “ _with one of my bestest friends~! Denki says he’s gonna get us t-shirts that say ‘best-birthday-bros’ too, can you believe it~!_ ”

Dabi had been mostly quiet, his form clearly uncomfortable; heh, they’d tried to joke, earlier, that between the pair of them they could _probably_ wreck the place enough to get all four of them away.

Heh.

If either of them could drive a get away car he _might_ have considered it.

 _Shit_.

Then, after the boy had explained his drawings “ _this is us when we’re back together at the café and this is you and me eating onigiri, see?_ ” he’d gone with Dabi to the vending machine within the relatively large room to get them all a soda.

“Shouta-kun” Kimiko had breathed when they were alone, her hand reaching for his and, after having grasped it, he locked eyes with the royal-blue of her irises; “I… I can never thank you enough” she murmured: “thanks to you… I… I know that he’ll be okay, you know?”

“I swear to you that he’ll want for nothing” he promised; “I… I only wish I could do more…”

“ _More_?” she laughed, her eyes tearing; “Shouta… you’re not responsible for me and my mistakes… you offered me more than anyone besides my husband ever has” she told him, her tone fond. “And here you are… looking after the most precious person in my life for me and apologising after I very nearly got you killed? You… you mustn’t concern yourself with anything that I’ve brought upon myself” she said, her fingers squeezing his. “No one forced me down this road other than myself… I shouldn’t have allowed Haruto to dote on me… I should have pushed myself when I was younger and not looked for the quickest and easiest way to make money” she sighed whilst shaking her head.

“You… you can’t say that about yourself” he breathed; “Kimiko… you were alone, grieving, you put your child’s wellbeing before your own” he told her firmly: “and _no one_ should be punished for that…”

“Heh… I would rather be punished than dead” she murmured; “I would rather be here, or somewhere like it, knowing that Toshi is well and that I’ll get to be with him again, one day… as someone who can put her shame behind her… as a woman he can be proud of” she added. “Sir Nighteye has shown me where I’ll be going and I… I need you to know… I _want_ you to know that I’ll be working hard while I’m in there” she stated firmly; “and, if you’ll have me? I want to work with you, I want to work _for_ you to help you realise your dream” she nodded.

“B-because… your dream is my dream too now, you understand? To help others, to be there for them, to make a difference” she smiled; “and I cannot thank you enough for that now, either…”

~*~

When they’d left (he’d told her that she’d _always_ have a place at the Noraneko), Hitoshi had saved his tears until they were back in the taxi, his body curling against his chest whilst he rubbed his back as Dabi held his hand.

God.

It’d been harrowing _but_ to see the woman so resolved, so determined had, at least, given him hope for the future.

A future that he could ask Sir Nighteye about but he _genuinely_ didn’t dare to.

However, as she’d said, she was alive…

She was well…

She would be looked after when her prison time was concluded because _he_ would make sure of it; also, the prison she’d be housed in was only an hour away by train which meant that he could take Hitoshi to see her every other Sunday (as they were allowed) and, thanks to technology, he could video-call her once a week, too.

Small, small mercies…

Then, when they’d arrived back home, they’d got into the café and gone upstairs together; two silly, anime movies later saw the boy snoozing in his arms and Dabi leaning into his side.

“Shou?”

“Um?”

“D’you… do you think that everyone is, you know, redeemable?”

Blinking (because _that_ had come out of nowhere), the café owner continued to rub soothingly at the other’s shoulder; “well, that depends” he replied thoughtfully. “The most important factor is if they truly want to change, what they’ll do to make those changes and how the people they may have wronged could feel about it” he added; “personally? I’d like to think that the percentage of people who could change for the better is greatly higher than those who can’t” he admitted. “Why do you ask?”

“When I… _decided_ to run away from home” the teen said quietly; “I did it because I was… scared about what I might become if I stayed but… but I left my mother and younger siblings behind” he continued after a swallow. “T-they’re safe, you know… in terms of having food, drink, a roof over their heads… tutors, and things” he added; “b-but my father is loud, brashy… violent… he’s a ‘ _spare the rod, spoil the child_ ’ kind of guy and he… he was only interested in us if our quirks were something he could develop” he stated. 

Carefully listening, his fingers keeping up their calming rhythm, Shouta nodded along.

God.

He _knew_ that something like this was behind his lodger’s state when he’d first met him.

 _Shit_.

Now there were _two_ people on his hit-list; Boss-sama was currently at the top _but_ that could change.

“I… he’s wealthy, _powerful_ and I… I _want_ to do something but… listening to Tsuragamae today I… I need evidence against him and I… I don’t know where to start, you know?”

Sucking in a breath before releasing it, the older of the three nodded; “we can hire a lawyer” he advised: “we can…”

“Shou” the other cut in quickly; “it’s not that I don’t appreciate the offer” he said, those turquoise eyes looking to him: “but… but I’m not ready to… to face him or… or anything yet and… and since they’re all… alright, for the most part” he carried on. “I… I can’t… I _don’t_ …”

“Okay” he offered gently; “I know it’s taken a great deal of strength to even bring this up, Dabi” he acknowledged: “and you’ll have no pressure from me, alright? Only support” he stated firmly. “Believe it or not I… I know how that feels” he explained, his eyes briefly closing; “you know that I grew up in a care-centre _but_ , what I don’t really talk about is the _Manager_ who was meant to take care of us” he furthered. “Itsu-san was a mean drunk and, since I was the oldest, I tried my best to love and look after the four boys who lived with me” he revealed. “God… there are times… _so_ many times that I beat myself up because, surely, I could’ve done something? Surely I could’ve found an adult to give a damn but… it wasn’t until I was offered a full scholarship to High School that I felt I had enough teachers fighting my corner to _finally_ tell the truth and get that bitch fired” he said. “It’s… something that I wrestle with, from time to time, but I _knew_ that I had to become someone who’d be listened to before any real good could be done” he reasoned.

Then, their eyes locking once more; “your father, whomever he is, made the biggest mistake of his life when he chose not to love, honour and value you for who you are, Dabi” he stated: “and you must _never_ forget that, alright?”


	30. A Very Good Idea…

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Warnings include: Angst... sorry, it couldn't be helped, swearing, anger, tears, attempted humour and...**   
>  **FFFFFFFFFFFFFEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEELLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS~!!**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Sees 'feel-good' dial*
> 
> Heh, fuck it...
> 
> *Cranks it up to 11~!*
> 
> XD

At 17:30, Hitoshi’s Homeroom Teacher had knocked at the café’s door; she’d given the tot a hug, told him to email her if there was anything about the study-pack he was unsure about and had left with a pleasant bow capped off with a cup-cake (that had her smiling brightly with a promise to come by again).

When 18:00 came, it brought with it Kohaku-san and some relatively good news; the forms he’d have to fill in for changes he wanted to make would be relatively simple and, since the fish-featured man knew so many people in the local-council, he’d make sure that the documents got to the right desks for reviewing quickly.

With any luck, they could start their remodelling work as soon as the upcoming weekend.

The weekend that would fall after Kimiko’s _hearing_ ; she’d signed herself (and her right to a trial) away in hope of gaining a reduced sentence.

Worse still, her legal team had advised that she didn’t want him to attend it; “ _given the circumstances, she’d prefer not inconvenience, especially since the hearing will take place in a Tokyo Court… I will contact you, personally, about the verdict as, with the guilty plea already in place, there’ll be no trial in her case_ ” Abi-san had told him. “ _You will not be called to Okami Seto’s trial to give your testimony, either, as he’s also pleaded guilty… you can, of course, submit a ‘Victim Impact Statement’ which the Judge will read and consider_ ” the man added; “ _we’ll be in touch, soon._ ”

Tch.

 _Wonderful_.

Hell, he wasn’t sure if he felt relieved or angry; sure, there was nothing he could do but… he’d wanted to be there to show his support for the woman.

Then again, maybe him being there would do more harm than good; potentially, him watching what she’d had to live through (because, no doubt, CCTV footage would be a factor regardless of her admitting to wrong doing; not all prosecutors soulless bastards… but that probably helped you move up the legal-ladder) would embarrass her.

 _Humiliate_ her when she’d already been through enough.

He… could understand that.

However, as he went to bed that night (the four of them were _camping out_ once more; Tomura had brought them a veritable motherlode of sweet treats (from chocolates to dango and lots of things in between) to share and they’d watched another batch of light-hearted movies that he was clearly too old and out of touch to enjoy.

It’d been great, though… and relaxing besides.

Tuesday, too, flowed by; Hitoshi diligently worked on his study pack, greeted customers with smiles and helped to keep the tables clean (he’d not allowed him to carry any plates or glasses; heaven forbid anything break to injure or upset him: not on his watch). He’d also given him a neko-shaped name-tag which read: “Shinsou Hitoshi – Assistant Manager” to go with Dabi’s “Manager” badge; his simply said “Cat-Dad”.

The boys had thought it was hilarious.

However, he’d had his own fun teasing the decay quirk user about what kind of badge he would like as the lull between the morning rush and the lunch-time crowds washed over them; “ _RPG Support? Café Overseer? _Dabi’s_ Special Assistant?_”

He’d thought all options were relevant and viable.

The consternated blush that’d flooded the other’s face when he’d voiced them had been adorable, too.

Well, it had been until he’d sputtered out a curse as the older teen had sauntered by, placed a kiss on the other’s temple and told him, unequivocally, that the “ _third option_ ” needed to be added to the grey-haired teen’s badge.

Then it became _irrationally_ cute; poor Tomura had just stood there, gloved fingers lightly touching the place where the affection had been daubed before, with a little nod at him, he’d accepted the badge.

_Heh._

Wedding bells, he was calling it now…

~*~

Similarly, onward the week marched; the study group flitted in and out (their support for Hitoshi unwavering), the MU Students and Middle-schoolers continued to cram as more exams loomed before the summer holidays and the salary-people sagged and sighed into their coffees, cakes and evening meals as the wight of their busy days fell away.

He’d stayed open all day on Friday, of course; the teens had kept their “ _Assistant Manager_ ” busy, he kept himself _busy_ and made more muffins than even All Might, he was sure, would be able to eat. Therefore, he’d pawned them off on the local Pros (who’d been thrilled), severed every lemonade, coffee or tea with one and boxed up the rest for Sir Nighteye to take.

The man had called him; he wanted to break the news personally.

 _Shit_.

However, regardless of the overriding stress and worry, he’d managed to arrange a surprise for Saturday (he’d subtly informed his regulars that he’d be closed at lunch time without tipping off the kids or the teens; Denki’s father, bless his heart, was playing a big hand in the jaunt as well); he knew that they’d enjoy it even if he wasn’t sure whether it was too soon for such a thing.

 _But_ the study group’s parents (every one of them a friend by now with plenty of advice to offer) had thought it was a wonderful idea.

It wouldn’t stop Hitoshi from feeling sad and it wouldn’t help his mother, of course; however… just sitting in the café, feeling sad and trying to hide it wouldn’t do him any good, either.

Hmm…

* **Bzz-bzz-bzz-bzz** *

Blinking out of his thoughts (it was 15:10; the study group wouldn’t be here until half-past and, aside from Mimi-chan and the girls (who were enjoying a Mahjong tournament) and a quiet, brunette with a nose-bandage who came by from time to time for cake, the café was empty; his boys were upstairs, studying together), he sighed.

The green, gold-streak haired Pro would be here any minute.

Shit.

In fact, _just_ as he’d had that thought, the other’s ( _certainly_ more sensible than All Might’s) black sedan pulled up outside.

Swallowing thickly, he watched as that tall figure (dressed in a sharp, emerald suit with a black-tie) made his approach.

When their eyes met through the glass, he tried to smile.

Sir Nighteye tried as well.

 _Shit_.

* **Ding-ding** *

“Aizawa-san, good afternoon” he greeted whilst moving from the door to the service bar, their eyes locked as the cool air he’d been fostering for the comfort of his patrons dropped by a few degrees; “I’ll cut to the chase” he said, those unusual irises sweeping around for any eavesdroppers: “she’ll be serving eight years and four months.”

_**Shit!** _

“W-what?” he heard himself say; “Hitoshi will be fourteen… no, _fifteen_ by then” he sighed, his form stiffening: “and please” he said when the other went to speak. “ _Please_ don’t tell me that this is better than ten years… I know and understand that” he managed to grit out before, after a shaky breath. “B-but… thank you, for what it’s worth I… it could have been worse, it _would_ have been worse if not for you, your team and the time you’ve spent” he admitted with a light nod.

But still.

Eight years?

Why the fuck would you add four months?

What _possible_ difference would or even _could_ that make to anything?

Eight missed birthdays, no, _nine_ as he had one coming up in the next few weeks… and so many festivals, holidays and other important milestones. 

He’d have to make potentially life-altering decisions with the boy, too; which middle-school he wanted to attend, what skills he wanted to harness, what career path he’d work towards.

Whether he’d choose to become a Pro Hero, or not.

Damn…

Not that he couldn’t or _wouldn’t_ support the boy in his pursuits but… he wasn’t the child’s father; what if he inadvertently went against Kimiko’s wishes?

One video-call a week wouldn’t give them enough time to cover everything, would it?

“If I may?” the taller man said quietly; “I don’t believe that the boy could be in any safer hands, Aizawa-san… I know I haven’t had the pleasure of Shinsou-san’s company for very long, however, one of the things that she’s seemed most confident about, all the way through this ordeal, is the care she knows you’ll give to her son” he stated firmly. 

Nodding a little, he straightened his shoulders, closed his eyes and centred himself.

Eight years and four, _fucking_ , months.

He could do this, he _would_ do this.

“I’ve been baking a great deal today” he told the other after the silence had yawned out between them (because, what could he say to that?), the shadow of a smile playing on his lips; “would you please take a box or two of muffins to share out with the lawyers and the people at your Agency as a thank you, for me?”

~*~

He’d waited until the café closed for the evening before sharing the news with Hitoshi and the teenagers who’d come to be so protective of him; they’d had a less tearful visit yesterday and, although there’d been tears that evening, eight years, longer than the child had been alive, was probably too big a number for him to truly fathom.

Small mercies.

However, he’d been promised by the legal team who’d worked so damned hard that, on the Sunday following the birthday party he’d share with Denki, they’d be able to start their by-weekly visits to the Detention House for up to three hours a time.

Heh, again, that allowance had been insisted upon by the attorney’s the Symbol of Peace and his best friend had put in place for them.

Hell, the plucky crew of five lawyers (two of whom were said to be the best in the Country; he could believe it) had pulled out all the stops from what little Tsuragamae-san had been able to share with him; Sir Nighteye, as promised, met with them earlier that night, too, and passed on some of the muffins: they’d been greatly appreciated.

If the sad, pouting face the sidekick had secretly snapped of All Might when he’d walked into his friend’s office to find the boxes empty was anything to go by, then he was sure that he’d be whipping up another order sooner than he thought.

Not that he minded.

Tch, he’d drown all of them in baked goods if it helped.

God.

What an irrational thought; the people who he’d become surrounded by were slowly chipping away at the logical rules he’d set his life by, weren’t they?

When his little brother’s came to visit him in July (they’d all been texting their availability as the thoughts of their schools’ summer holidays drew near; everyone of them was excited to see the café, meet their other brothers and, to quote Naoki “ _hug the life out of you, Aizawa-nii~!_ ”) they’d hardly recognise him at this rate.

Hmm…

They’d have to call his Shouta-nii or Shou now, too, wouldn’t they?

How informal, how _unlike_ him.

How _glad_ he was that the people around him had wanted to open him up and ask to share his dream with them…

~*~

Saturday morning sprang up with confirmation that the café expansion was a go; he’d called and thanked Kohaku-san and, all to eager to start, Uraraka-san was rearing to throw his skills at the building whilst he took his daughter and the other tots and teens out for their day-trip.

Firstly, he’d get the wall between the apartments knocked through.

Then, he and his friend (who he’d insisted be paid the top rates for their work) would work all through Sunday to break into the new space, build the new toilet blocks, set up the cat enclosure, lay the linoleum and give everywhere a base-coat.

They wouldn’t be able to start using the space until Tuesday (to allow the paint-fumes to disperse and receive approval from the health and safety-inspectors who’d be coming by on Monday) _but_ , everything was coming together nicely.

Furthermore, All Might (the big-hearted lug) had _demanded_ that they have “ _an official opening ceremony, Shouta-kun~! Such things are hugely important and I, of course, would be _thrilled_ to cut the ribbon… a-ano… if that’s alright? Ahahaa~! I’d come even if there wasn’t cake, you know? B-but… there’ll be cake, won’t there?_”

Tch.

Wasn’t he supposed to be a tactical genius, or something?

Chuckling to himself, the boys’ breakfasts all laid out on the back bench, waiting for them, he went out into the café proper, unlocked the doors and welcomed his Saturday morning crowd in amidst the scent of freshly ground-coffee, savoury tamagoyaki and “ _croissants?! Maa~ Aizawa-san, you’re spoiling us~!_ ”

~*~

As 12:00 swung by, Dabi and Tomura had been sharing curious glances with him for the past thirty-minutes as the regulars who usually lounged for a good hour or so (both inside and outside the café) began to wave, wink and make their way to wherever else they wanted to spend a rare day off.

“Oi” the flame quirk user had said, his hands gesturing at the empty space, his brows lifting; “what’s going on, not so old guy?”

“Hmm?” he’d blinked; “I’m not sure what you mean” he deadpanned, his hands absentmindedly stacking take-away cups as Uraraka-san’s ancient Kei-truck pulled up outside of the eatery, an excited Ochaco, Tsuyu and Eijiro spilling out of it as the man started to unload a few power-tools onto the sidewalk.

“Wow, are you starting work already?” Tomura asked, his own brows lifting as Hitoshi excitedly skipped to the door to open it for his friends; “how come you didn’t tell us?”

“Oh? Didn’t I?” he shrugged; “how odd of me” he shrugged, his response causing the older children to side-eye each other.

“You’re up to something” the taller teen accused, those turquoise eyes narrowing; “spill the beans, cat-dad” he stated bluntly.

“Beans?” he hummed, his left-hand waving at the tots as they, dressed up in their cute shorts and t-shirts, clambered came inside the eatery with cheers and excited greetings. “Huh, now that you mention it, I don’t have any red-bean desserts on the menu at the moment, do I?” he mused, his head looking up at the chalk-board overhead with a considering expression.

Sighing, Dabi went to say something else before, Tomura tugging at the short-sleeve of his new, favourite, light-weight coat (that he’d seen on a website he’d been browsing whilst looking for some t-shirts for himself; he knew it’d look good on him, _iconic_ , even) and gestured at the door’s large viewing window.

For Izuku and Katsuki, the pair racing (the blonde grinning fiercely as the emerald haired child, whose kicks and leg muscles were developing nicely, struggled to overtake him), were on the approach.

At a more sedate pace, her form yelling encouragement for both of them to “ _do your best~! Look at how fast you’re getting~!_ ” came Inko, her smile resplendent as she struggled to keep her straw-hat from blowing away in her haste.

Yes.

 _Yes_ , this had been a good idea.

“ _Shit_ , he’s genuinely smiling… only something good can come of this” he heard his lodger stage-whisper to his partner who was nodding sagely, a gloved hand rubbing at his chin thoughtfully.

“There’re no hoses… so we’re not doing the water park again” he muttered thoughtfully as Uraraka-san cheered the boys reaching the door in a draw.

A draw that ended in Eijiro throwing the barrier open to hug them both, his cry of “guys~! That was so _hecking~_ manly, you know?!” almost drowned out by Katsuki’s growl of “wah~! Get off of me~! Hugs are for winners~!” whilst Izuku chuckled out a breathy “b-but we both won, Kaachan~!”

Heh.

 _Adorable_ just didn’t do the scene justice, did it?

“Maa~ Aizawa-san~! Am I okay to get started?”

Chuckling as he walked through the service bar’s privacy gate, his hands passing the old florist’s keys to the man he offered a “thank you Uraraka-san… I’ve put a pitcher of lemonade and some onigiri up there for you” to, he couldn’t _quite_ hide his grin when Dabi and Tomura regarded him critically.

“Ahh~! Thank you~!” the sandy-blonde grinned fiercely; “you kids have fun, now~!” he chirped before making his way back out into the heat, his body offering the oldest Midoriya (who was coming with them) a polite bow as he held the door open for her.

“ _Suspicious_ ” the oldest boys murmured together whilst Inko sucked in a deep breath of cool air, her cheeks pinked as the children frolicked their way to the study area where he’d placed a plate of cookies (paw-print shaped) and a selection of fruit for them to enjoy.

“My-my, Shouta-kun~ you’re very good at keeping secrets~” she smiled at him fondly; “I’ve just been fit to burst~”

Winking at her (the gesture causing his observers to baulk and whisper amongst themselves), the café owner looked to his phone; staring back at him, his fingers thrown up in a peace-sign, was an excited electric-quirk user as he sat in his father’s loaned mini-bus.

“It won’t be long now” he mused cryptically before, his body turning towards the study-area; “don’t forget to save some for Denki, alright?”

~*~

Locking up the currently functioning side of his business, the erasure quirk user helped Inko to marshal the smallest of their group (all bewildered and filled with anticipation) into the vehicle, buckle them up and get them settled after he’d tried to give Kaminari-san some gas money.

“Keep your cash, cat-dad~!” the roguish man (whose company worked with vehicle rental companies in several ways) chortled, his hand waving away the yen he’d proffered; “this is my treat, you got it?”

Chuckling and offering a polite bow of thanks, he’d hopped in the front of the bus next to Denki, his hand giving the boy’s artistic mop of hair an affectionate ruffle whilst he passed him two small, take-away boxes containing some cookies and fruit for himself and his father to enjoy.

“Shou-nii~! Where are we going~?!” Ochaco called, her big, doe eyes looking around the vehicle in astonishment.

“You all have three guesses” he told them, his gaze looking at them over his shoulder; “we’ll start with Katsuki and work our way around to Denki and keep going until someone guesses correctly” he told them: “you’re bright kids, so let’s see who can figure it out~!” he challenged as the goateed male pulled them away from the curb with a cheer.

“Are we going hiking?” the blond asked.

“Not this time” he replied; “but… before the end of the school holidays, it’d be fun for us all to go hiking and camping, wouldn’t it?”

At the whoops, high fives and the youngest, crimson eyed child’s fist pump (Mitsuki had lamented to him, once or twice, that wandering around the mountains was her son’s favourite activity and that she and her husband were often too busy to indulge him) he shared a knowing smile with Kaminari-san.

“We going to the park?”

“Tokyo?”

“The beach?”

“All good tries but all, sadly, wrong” he smirked.

“Are we gonna watch a baseball game?”

“Sumo wrestling?”

“Kabuki?”

“Nope” he grinned whilst taking a slow, deliberate bite of a paw-shaped cookie; at the widening of Dabi, Izuku and Tomura’s eyes, he couldn’t help his snicker.

“Oh my gosh~!” the freckled child squealed; “we… we’re gonna go look at cats to adopt for the café, aren’t we~?!”

Allowing one beat to pass, two, _three_ …

“You got it, kiddo.”

At the thrilled cries (“ _ugh! Cats are so _freakin_ manly~!_”), Shouta leaned back in his chair, finished his cookie and smiled broadly, his eyes looking to the road.

Yes.

This had been a _very_ good idea, hadn’t it?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Or...
> 
> Shouta: "get in losers, we're going shopping... FOR CATS~!!"
> 
> XD


	31. Enter Shiretoko Tomoko…

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Warnings include: very briefly referenced animal harm, swearing, a smidge of angst (tied in to self-esteem issues/not fitting in) and...**
> 
> **FFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEELLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS~!!**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now, as someone who has never owned a cat (I love them, I do; however, we've always had dogs in my family _BUT_ it is my dream to one day be the proud 'looker-afterer' (because I don't like the word owner) of a Ragdoll cat~!) I've tried my best to research the breeds I've picked out/researched the best ways to handle/care for cats.
> 
> I am by NO MEANS an expert and apologise if I've gotten anything wrong~!

Arriving at the “Neko Nakama Shelter” (the biggest and arguably best one out of the three in Musutafu) Shouta waved to the woman (the same age as himself) who he’d had a few video-calls with across the week as she bolted out of the electric, glass-screen doors to gesture, wildly, at the bus as they entered the small, empty carpark.

Heh, to see her now? Well…

“Ahh~! Welcome-welcome, everyone~!”

He realised that his initial impression of her had been correct…

“Hi~! Hi~! Oh~! You’re all so cute~! Wah~! And are those cat-paw-cookies for me~?! Yummy~!”

With her enthusiasm, energetic mannerisms and colouring, it was _just_ like having Izuku in stereo…

“My name is Shiretoko Tomoko, but you can call me Ragdoll, okay? Cus they’re my favourite kind of kitty-cat~! Ooh~! And here~! Every visitor gets a neko-eared headband~! Aren’t they adorable~?!”

Watching as the hyperactive woman seemed to teleport around himself and the children, the box of baked goods he’d given her already deposited in the small, tote-bag looped across her slender, milky shoulders, Shouta had to cover his laugh when it came to Dabi and Tomura receiving theirs.

The shocked, bewildered look his lodger had sent him had been _hilarious_.

Then, the tots fawning over their new accessories, Kaminari Koji and Inko diligently took pictures of them whilst Hitoshi skipped to his side, a smaller hand reaching for his; he returned the gesture, nodded at the rara-skirted woman and followed her as she led them up the three, concreate steps to the same doors she’d bowled through earlier.

“Okay guys~! _This_ is the lobby~! If you look around at the walls, you can see _all_ of the neko and koneko we’ve successfully rehomed since this Shelter opened ten years ago~!” she called, her white-paw gloved hands flinging around in all directions to point out the various, fluffy creatures.

Listening to the children-coo, the air-conditioning of the chamber helping to dust some of the heat they’d felt outside off, he and the oldest Midoriya approached the welcome desk to sign them all in whilst the teenagers approached the touch-screen computer panel to his right, their fingers dutifully flicking through the adoptable cats.

“Now then~! All of our precious kitty-cats have had their shots, been spayed, treated for fleas _and_ wormed~!” the emerald haired volunteer advised, her slender figure crouching down to be at the children’s level; “however, we _just_ need to go through a few cat-care rules before we go through to see ‘em, okay?”

“ _Okay~!_ ” the tots chorused eagerly.

“Maa~ you guys~ I’m so pleased~” she grinned back, her large eyes sparkling as she held up her _paws_ , the whisker make-up she wore across her pretty face scrunching up as she smiled; “number one, most kitties are okay with loud noises and quick movements _but_ , to be polite, we’re _all_ gonna move slowly and not yell, okay?”

Having to cover his mouth again (for fear of offending the boy), Shouta also heard the teens stifle chuckles as, in unison, all of the kids turned to Katsuki who scowled, folded his arms and glared back at them; “ _tch~!_ What’re you all staring at _me_ , for?! Huh?! I’m not _that_ loud~!” he growled before purposefully snapping his jaw shut.

“Hee-hee~! Okay, _two_? If you’d like to pet any of our furry-friends, come an’ ask me and I’ll get them out of their crates for you, okay? We have a ‘ _get to know you_ ’ play-pen that you can sit in for them to get a good sniff of you, alright?”

Then, all of their names effectively penned, he bowed at the kindly old man who shuffled the papers and bowed at him in turn; heh, he knew it probably wasn’t showing on the outside and, as irrational as it was, he couldn’t help but feel really excited, too.

One of the few dreams he’d allowed for himself was _actually_ on the cusp of being realised.

“And our final rule, chibi-tachi~ when you’re handling the cats, be very gentle… don’t touch their tails and, if they look as though they don’t want to be touched, be respectful and let them walk away from you, alright? I’ll be on hand to help you out and, since they all have claws and teeth, just be mindful, okay?” she offered, her silliness momentarily shifting to more serious. “We have the most _amazing_ first-aid wipes that’ll heal any scratches up straight away, too, alright?”

Nodding enthusiastically, Tomoko then clapped her novelty hands together, stood up, spun around and marched towards another set of double-door; “come on then, cuties~! Let’s go meet some kitty-cats~!”

~*~

Walking into the large area, the sounds of mewls, meows and yowls echoing inside the airy, rectangular room, Shouta hummed thoughtfully at the three rows that stretched down and across the three walls; the wall which housed the doors they’d just walked through merely hosting a hand-washing station, a first aid-kit and fire extinguisher.

Whereas, at the centre of the room, the big play-pen lay; it was filled with a few cat-tree-towers, scratching posts and some soft-toys on wand-tethers for any visitors to use.

The blue-ground looked plush and the outer-walls were made of similarly soft, square blocks for people to sit on.

“Shou-nii?”

Blinking, he realised that the children and teens were still standing near him (heh, he’d thought that they’d have gone to see the curiously felines); “umm?” 

“Ano… how many cats are you gonna adopt?” Eijiro shyly asked.

Cocking his head at the child before looking to the others, he huffed out a laugh; “I told you that I wanted each of you to have one, didn’t I?”

At the awed gasps (Denki and Katsuki whispering a quick “ _dude, you were right! He was serious~_ ”, “tch, yeah, he doesn’t lie, does he?”), the café owner shook his head; “well, go on then” he urged with a little shooing motion that had them (very quietly; tch, such good kids) cheering and carefully wandering to the barred enclosures.

Then, his brows lifting, he saw that the teenagers hadn’t moved; “do you two not want to rescue one?” he asked, a little surprised.

Hadn’t they both told him that they were looking forward to having some “ _furballs_ ” around the place?

“W-what?” they returned, their faces a little lax in shock whilst Inko grinned at them as she and a tittering Koji also ventured into the area where Tomoko was quickly (yet somehow calmly) bouncing around from small group to small group of children.

“Shou… nine cats, really?”

“No” he huffed, his shoulders rolling; “I’m going to select one too, so that makes ten, doesn’t it?” he said as though it was obvious, his right hand squeezing the flame quirk user’s shoulder affectionately: “the cat-space in the café will be big enough to comfortably house them and it works out cheaper to buy cat-litter and food in bulk, so” he grinned. “Let’s go see who wants to come home with us, shall we?”

~*~

Looking at the various breeds, colours and sizes of feline within the room (there were fifty cats in the facility; damn, he couldn’t take all of them, could he? _Shit_ ), Shouta also kept his ears out for what the kids, Inko and Koji-san were saying before, with a blink, he found Tomoko in his personal space.

That smile, friendly thought it was, seemed a little unnerving at such close range.

“Have you fallen in love yet?” she asked him with that Cheshire grin.

“Umm…”

“Because, if it’s not too bold of me to say” she continued whilst leaning in further; “I _think_ there’s a special lady you should meet~!”

Was…

Was she coming onto him, or…

“O-kay” he said cautiously before, with a gasp he couldn’t hold in, one of those soft-paw gloves had latched onto his wrist and, with a strength which-belied her slight-build, the tank-topped woman pulled him across the room to view a crate on the top shelf.

A crate that contained a golden-eyed, jet-Bombay cat standing protectively in front of two smaller kits, her slit irises narrowing at him imperiously with a flash of teeth.

She was enchanting.

“Eee~! I _knew_ that you’d like her~” the cat-costumed woman preened excitedly; “she’s a very special case and, well? She may not look particularly friendly right now _but_ she’s a sweet-heart who we want to rehome _with_ her sons, you know?”

Nodding carefully, Shouta stood back a little as Tomoko leaned in to undo the barred door’s latch, the mother haunching up defensively when the barrier swung away.

“Does she have a name?”

“Ahh… she probably did, once” the other said softly, her eyes filled with an understanding sympathy; “she was brought into the shelter heavily pregnant, underweight and… if you can see just under her eye, there? We think she’d been living on the street for a while and had been attacked” she sighed. “Her fur was all matted and falling out _but_ with a little time and care, we got her fighting fit again” she grinned; “I just call her Hahaue… don’t I, sweet girl, hmm?”

Loosely curling his fingers inwards (as he’d watched cat-handlers do online) he slowly presented the digits for inspection; as the older cat grumbled a little, it was the kittens who skirted her to have a sniff before rubbing themselves against his hand and wrist.

God damn everything…

It was _just_ as wonderful as he’d hoped it’d be.

Then, he carefully withdrew, the smaller creatures following whilst their mother, clearly exasperated, huffed.

Chuckling fondly, he offered his arm as a ramp and watched as the kits, delighted to get out of the cage, skirted down the length of it towards his waves of similarly ebony-hair, his other hand moving to carefully hover nearby just in case the sleek, purring pair couldn’t get purchase on his skin or t-shirt fabric.

“Hee-hee, you’re a natural, Aizawa-san” his onlooker offered before, to their continued surprise, Hahaue made her approach, the gold of her eyes cautious before she leapt to the ground and circled around him with a questioning “ _m-mwow?_ ”

Slowly easing down to the floor, ensuring that the kittens were secure, he sat down, cross-legged, and gently eased her boys onto his black-jean covered thighs, his fingers offered up as toys whilst Tomoko quietly knelt beside him.

Studying the display, the oldest of the Bombay trio rubbed against his knee before slinking into his lap, her face butting against his midsection before she pooled to sit with a yawn.

“Well, looks like _you’re_ the one whose been adopted, huh?” Tomoko smiled warmly, before, at the light gasps behind her, they both turned to see Hitoshi and Izuku peering at the arrangement, their little hands moving to their cheeks in awe.

“Ahh~ Shou-nii~ they’re so pretty~” Izuku quietly gushed; “can we come and say hi?”

Nodding, each child moving to sit beside him, Hahaue huffed, regarded the approaching humans and then put her head back down with a sigh, her eyes closing whilst she rumbled out a purr. 

Then, their mother’s contentment (or the lack of her critical eye and protective stance), the kittens lolloped their way to explore the children closest to them, their noses twitching as they allowed tentative fingers to run through their coats, tickle behind their ears and scratch under chins.

“Hee-hee~! Well, I guess I’ll just head on over to the registry sheet and put down Hahaue and her kits, neh~?”

~*~

Within half an hour, ten cats had been selected and, together, the humans carefully took their charges to the _pen_ to see how they’d get along; since the café would essentially be their forever home (because he’d offer _in-house_ adoption if someone wanted to help pay a certain cat’s living-costs), everyone needed to get along.

“Okay, let’s see who we need to add to the register, hmm?”

Ochaco, her little arms all a quiver with how careful she was being, had a fluffy, mousse coloured ragamuffin adult with large eyes and a tongue cutely sticking out; “this is Hime~” she introduced: “because she’s a princess~”

Nodding and cooing, the emerald-haired volunteer smiled approvingly; “she’s eight years old, which means she’s becoming a grand old lady who’s going to need lots of cuddles, gentle grooming and nice warm bed to snuggle in… however, she’s a strong, playful dame and her breed can live up to eighteen years, too~” she advised.

Then, slow stepping behind her best friend, came a serene looking Tsuyu, her own arms cradling a jade-eyed calico-juvenile who was predominately white with patches of grey and black whilst Denki, his grin magnetic, walked alongside her with a similar calico of roughly the same age, only this one had blue eyes and a patch yellow amidst the grey and black. 

“I’d like to call him _Kero_ , so he always knows me” the frog-featured child offered, her cheeks pinking cutely; “and this bad boy is Raijin, God of Lightning~” her pre-school playmate added, the cat purring madly as it received a scratch _just_ behind its left ear whilst its twin played, fascinated, with strands of dark-green hair.

The teens came next, the pair sitting next to him before they carefully added the felines they’d picked to the plush ground; “Homura” Dabi said to Tomoko when the regal, one eyed Siamese sat upon his sneakered foot, its dark face releasing a bored yawn whilst the kittens tumbled all over a demur, lounging Hime. Then, its pom-tail a little crooked, Tomura _tried_ to replace the older Japanese Bobtail onto the floor, however, with a flash of teeth, the mostly grey cat plonked itself back into the boy’s lap with a huff, its amber eyes _daring_ him to try dislodging him. 

“Tch, you’re a cranky old man, ain’t ya?” the sixteen-year-old snickered; “Jiji is what I’m calling you, grandpa grump-puss” he added whilst Tomoko tried not to gush.

“Oh~ we’ve been trying to find a home for him for well over a year~” she said, her eyes tearing (right alongside Inko’s because, _of course_ ); “it’s so hard to convince people that a cat over nine is worth taking~!”

Snorting, his gloved hands gently running through the thick, ruff of fur collaring the similarly grey-eyed feline’s neck, the shorter teen huffed out a quite “people are idiots” whilst the flame quirk user carefully reached out to give the solidly purring creature a light tickle, which was happily received.

Then, with Hitoshi and Izuku merrily enjoying ‘Haruto’ (“ _that… was my dad’s name_ ”) and ‘Hero’ ( _of course_ ), the felines all either getting along or _completely_ ignoring the playful youth in favour of human touch (Hahaue had, similarly, refused to leave his lap; not that he minded) they were only awaiting Eijiro and Katsuki.

The dark-haired tot arrived first; “everybody? This is _Red Riot_ ~” he announced whilst the dark-brown, _almost_ red Oriental Long Hair mewled in his arms, those blazing amber eyes full of life as it literally bounced into the pen and nose dived into a clearly nonplussed Hime’s fluffy flank to wriggly and wiggly around.

“Ahh~ good choice~ this one is one of youngest residents and the last of the litter who was brought in a few weeks ago” Tomoko said, her stylus scribbling down the feisty kitten’s name, her eyes filled with glee; “this breed is highly sociable and gets along with most cats and humans” she told the hugely grinning boy. “He’ll be perfect in a café environment… in fact, with the exception of Jiji who may need a little more coaxing, I’m certain that they’ll all be—”

“ _Meow~!! * **Hiss~!!**_ ”

Blinking, their heads turning as one, the group smiled regardless of the sweat-drops multiplying against their temples as the rambunctious blonde, a tiger-striped, golden tabby planted firmly atop his delighted head, marched over to the area. “This one” the crimson eyed child began, his arms folding haughtily; “is _the best_ kitten ever~” he announced before, with the ease of someone who’d handled cats before, he efficiently scooped the teeth-flashing kit off of his head before placing it into the boxed area, his smirk devilish as the scrappy koneko bounded around its fellows.

Sharing a look with Inko (who was stood behind him) and the teens (Dabi was deadpanned, Tomura was face-palming), Shouta couldn’t help his chuckle before, with a blink, he watched as Red Riot, clearly feeding off the yowling, boisterous kitten’s energy, began to pounce at and play with him.

Hotaru, Hero and Raijin were, of course, only too pleased to get wrapped up in the game of chase as well.

So _ridiculously_ cute~!

“Hee-hee~ what’s the little fighter’s name then, huh?” their shelter-registered helper asked, her painted face alight with excitement.

At the flicker of mischievous joy playing across those red-eyes, his right index finger rubbing under his nose arrogantly, Katsuki then planted his little fists upon his hips before proudly saying “ _Bakusatsugo~!_ ”

Ahh…

But, _of course_ …

“O-oh?” the milky skinned young woman tried whilst the Midoriya’s tried to hide their laughter, the teens shook their heads and Denki (alongside a starry-eyed Eijiro) let out “ _wow~!_ ”, the café owner snorted. 

“K-king Explosion Murder… o-kay?” the bewildered woman tried to smile as she swayed on her feet; “a-any particular reason?” she asked whilst the all of the kittens (Kero now having been shoved into the mix) bounded around.

“Heh~ cus that’s gonna be my hero-name when I get my licence, _we_ set up or Agency and _they_ all help me to become the Number Pro over All Might~” he preened; “we’re gonna be the best of the best so even though _I’ll_ have the title _no one_ will mess with any of us~” he furthered with a nod that had his two fan-boys in tears.

The other children offered sheepish smiles except for Hitoshi who joined the teens in huffing and shaking his head.

“Oh~ you all wanna be Pro’s, nyah~” the cat-make-up wearer stated, her chest puffing out proudly; “ _I_ have a hero license, don’t you know~” she preened before, her shoulders sagging, the smile dropping off of her pretty face she added: “ahh~ well, I wasn’t as lucky as you guys” she admitted. “I went to Shiketsu High and, try as I might… I just couldn’t fit in” she furthered a little self-consciously, her right, flip-flop covered foot making a circle on the floor as she looked down at it. “Everyone there was either _super_ serious or kinda creepy and I, well? I can’t help but be enthusiastic and I love to add acrobatics to my fighting style and that… that didn’t go down well, you know?” she hummed before gesturing around the cattery.

“So, now? I’m studying Economics at MU… I work in a Star Bucks with a bunch of snippy teenage girls who don’t like me and come here to volunteer every chance I get~” she tried to smile with a shrug; “you kids be sure to stick together and look out for each other, alright?” she furthered before walking away to the back wall to no doubt type the cats’ names into the computer stood there.

Watching her go, Shouta couldn’t help the sympathy that bloomed in his chest even as Hahaue, her golden gaze locked onto the warring kittens, gave him a nudge, jumped down and broke the tumbling mess of furry-limbs up, her glare brokering no argument as even Bakusatsugo sneezed and plonked his fluffy butt down.

“Shou” Dabi said slowly, his tone spiked with warning; “I can see what you’re thinking…”

“And?”

“ _And_ ” the teen hedged whilst leaning into him; “just stop and think for a minute, she… I’m sure she’s _great_ ” he tried whilst trying to frame his words tactfully: “but she’s a _whole_ bunch of energy, isn’t she?”

“Like Izuku in stereo” he affirmed with a nod; “but… we _need_ someone to help with the cats, don’t we?”

“W-well, yeah” the scarred teen conceded whilst Tomura chuckled knowingly.

“And she’s clearly café experienced, too, right?”

“Yes, but…”

“ _And_ who do we know who might _like_ that kind of energy, who radiates the same energy well… outside of Izuku, hmm?” he pushed and, just like that, he watched as the flame quirk user let out a long, defeated sigh.

“You wanna see a Loud-Cat-Mic-Night, don’t you?” he huffed, a smile tugging his lips despite himself.

“I think she’d make a good fit” he nodded whilst the children (alongside Koji-san and Inko who were diligently cooing and taking photographs) attended to the now calmer cats and kittens whilst Hahaue regarded Homura, gave him a neck nuzzle and returned to her perch with a chuff. “You saw how broken-hearted she was” he furthered, his gaze moving back to the woman; “and it’d be better for her to work with us than in a corporate institution with people she clearly doesn’t like” he added before, with a grin.

“5000yen says that she’ll grow on you” he stated, his right hand offered in a shake.

“Tch, you’re on, not so old guy” he smirked whilst grabbing the other’s hand and making the deal-binding gesture; “I’m also calling bankruptcy, right here, right now” he continued with a jaunty cocking of his brows; “but, don’t you worry, I’ll be sure to give you a loan with a decent interest rate, okay?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahh... so, you'll notice that there's a range of ages/breeds here and the most expensive breeds, sadly, have some kind of issue... well, we're dealing with adoptions/a shelter here, people...
> 
> I'm not meaning to hate (because there are people who GENUINELY can't provide for their furred friends and GOD BLESS THOSE PEOPLE WHO HAVE THE BALLS TO REHOME THEM/TAKE THEM TO A SHELTER INSTEAD OF LEAVING THEM OUTSIDE~!); however, most animals end up in a shelter for a reason, don't they...
> 
> But, on a positive note~!
> 
> Tee-hee~!
> 
> I love the Wild Wild Pussycats~!
> 
> They've not been formed, as a group, yet and... I've always had a special fondness for Tomoko-chan and _really_ think she could make a chaotic quartet with our local Pros~!
> 
> They'll help her to build up her confidence and, potentially, help to get her mixed up with the others a little later on, too~!
> 
> XD
> 
> Ahh... and for those who want a comprehensive list of our latest, furry-friends and their rescuers:
> 
> Dabi – one eyed Siamese; the same blue as his flames: Homura (flame/blaze)
> 
> Hitoshi – Bombay Cat kitten: Haruto (his father’s name)
> 
> Izuku – Bombay Cat kitten: Hero~!
> 
> Katsuki – tiger-striped golden tabby cat: Bakusatsugo (King Explosion Murder).
> 
> Eijiro – a red/brown oriental Oriental Long Hair: Red Riot.
> 
> Denki – calico (white, yellow, black): Raijin (lightning God).
> 
> Ochaco – a “Ragamuffin” in cream: “Hime” (Princess).
> 
> Tsuyu – calico (white, black, grey) with green eyes: Kero (ribbit).
> 
> Tomura – a “kinked pom” Japanese Bobtail in grey/white/older: Jiji (old man).
> 
> Shouta – a Bombay Cat: adult, mother to two kittens: Hahaue – old Japanese for mother.


	32. Helping…

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Warnings include: reflections on how people cope with loneliness, swearing, tears (good ones, ONLY good ones, I swear) and...**
> 
> **FFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEELLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS~!!**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Looks at the tags*
> 
> Which one did I make up that is DEFINITELY one of my favourites, again?
> 
> Oh yeah, that's right...
> 
> Aizawa Shouta will solve ALL the problems~!!
> 
> XD
> 
> Cat-dad powers~! Activate~!

With the adoption fees paid (criminally low, in his opinion; however, the elderly manager, the same person who’d booked them in for their successful visit, had told him that the older cats were virtually free of charge: he was just delighted that they were _finally_ being rehomed), Inko and Koji-san wrangled the kids back to the mini-bus.

Denki’s father, the kindly man he was (and a joker, besides; he could clearly see where his son got his enthusiasm from), had offered to take them all for a quick jaunt around one of the better parks since it’d become overcast and the heat less oppressive; he’d similarly stated that _everyone_ would be getting an ice-cream.

Needless to say, that had gone down well.

“Okay Aizawa-san~ I’ll drive the cats to your premises next Sunday after 11:00, okay?”

Smiling and bowing at Tomoko, he presented his business-card; “I hope you’ll not find this too intrusive of me to say” he began, their eyes locking: “but, after listening to you talking to the kids earlier… I was wondering if you’d be interested in a position at my café?”

Watching as she blinked, those large, expressive eyes widening further, Shouta continued; “I can pay you the going rate, five days a week, and we can discuss shift-patterns that’ll work around your hours of study” he told her with a mild shrug. “Also… although it’d be great to have some help with the general-side of the café in terms of customer orders and cleaning… I’d prefer to have you overseeing the cat-enclosure and the people who pay to access it” he stated; “my number is there, and I… _oofff~!_ ”

Feeling the wind chuff out of his lungs, the other twenty-one-year-old hesitantly patted the back of the woman clutching him, his brows reaching for his hairline.

Heh.

Dabi wasn’t wrong about those energy levels, was he?

“O-oh… _oh_ you m-mean it, _really_?” she asked as she pulled away, her make-up smudged (and probably plastered all over his t-shirt, _wonderful_ ) and features _literally_ sparkling.

“I’m not in the habit of saying things that I don’t mean” he told her, his usual deadpan a touch softer in the face of such innocent hope; “why don’t you come by for a visit on Monday, have a look around and, if you’re happy? We can arrange an informal interview” he offered. “That way we can discuss a start date and get an employment contract set— _ooofffff~!_ ”

So, personal space really wasn’t in her vocabulary, was it?

 _However_ …

“O-oh thank you, _thank you_ , _**thank you~!!**_ ” 

He supposed that he could get used to such irrational things, couldn’t he?

~*~

Returning to the café, a small crowd of MU students eagerly awaiting their return as they lounged under the parasols and the candy-stripped awning he’d pulled out that morning, their happy voices called out as they welcomed them back; at the greeting (pleasant but unexpected) Shouta shared a grin with Inko after they waved the mini-bus off.

Heh, as nice as their trip and jaunt around the park had been, he couldn’t deny that it was good to be home.

“Wah~ Aizawa-san~ we were hoping that you’d have brought some fluffy-cuties back with you~” one of the students grinned whilst he, his ward, the teens and Midoriya’s’ welcomed them all inside; Koji-san had been more than happy to drop the rest of the tots off back at their respective homes, so that was one less thing to worry about.

Hmm.

He’d have to bake up a batch of chocolate-brownies to say a proper thank you to the man since he’d refused to take any yen, wouldn’t he?

_Hmm._

Brownies and ice-cream made for a good combination, didn’t they?

He’d have to add that to the menu, wouldn’t he? Yes, that would definitely be a crowd pleaser and something that was quick to make, quick to bake and easy enough to add fruit to for a healthy-spin, wouldn’t it?

Ahh, but these were things to think about later because, in the first instance, he had some feline-fans to see to, didn’t he?

“Unfortunately, the main work on their enclosure won’t begin until tomorrow” he told her, his smile fond; “however, my Manager and his Assistants are going to produce some information posters, so you’ll get to see them on Monday” he furthered pleasantly.

“Yay~!” the group gushed; “ohh~ I’d like to adopt two~” a young man with elfin ears and warm, caramel skin called; “we could never have cats at home because of Ma’s allergies and, well? We can’t have them in our dorms, either” he sighed a little dejectedly.

“And me~” the blue-skinned, side-kick gushed excitedly; “it’s only fair that we help you to look after them, right?” she mused, her hands clasping together: “it’s going to be _so_ nice to play with them after sitting all of the mind-breaking exams we’ve got coming up~” she sighed, the seven people behind her nodding in solidarity.

Offering a bow of thanks, he began to take their orders whilst Dabi and Tomoura headed through the kitchen and up the stairs to check on Uraraka-san; Izuku, Hitoshi and Inko, however, were making their way down to the study-area to create some more drawings to please Kimiko with when they got to visit her in three weeks’ time.

Then, just like that, Saturday rolled on by with lashings of lemonade, servings of Takoyaki, classic sandwiches and bowlfuls of ice-cream with fruit compote and syrup.

Sure, life couldn’t be sweet all of the time and there were still the odd bouts of misfortune to deal with; however, in moments like these? The café abuzz with laughter, his patrons well fed and relaxed, well?

He’d be sure to enjoy _every_ minute of them.

~*~

At 17:00, before some of the salary-workers who worked Saturday’s arrived, Shouta left the service bar to Dabi (Tomura had settled down to play a video game with the tots whilst Inko, clearly wanting to help, was diligently browsing discount websites and sales for cat-products on her smart phone with a glass of iced-tea) and headed upstairs with a platter of food for Uraraka-san. 

“Ahh, Aizawa~” the sandy-haired man greeted through the _fantastic_ , wide archway he’d created to join the two living spaces together; “maa~ you shouldn’t keep spoiling me, you know?” he chuckled whilst eagerly taking the tray of onigiri, pickled vegetables and Takoyaki, his nose breathing the scents in with a pleased sigh.

“Providing you with food when you’re working so hard is only fair” he mused, his hands running down the dried plaster, the breeze running through the now conjoined chamber thanks to all of the windows being open a blessing; he didn’t want his boys to sleep in a room filled with fumes, after all; “this is incredible” he praised. “If I hadn’t known that a wall had been there previously, I wouldn’t have believed it” he furthered; “and the fresh-coat of paint has really brightened up the place… thank you for stripping all of that, _interesting_ wall paper off” he grinned.

“Ha~ are you kiddin?” the older man chuckled, another glass of lemonade poured on the coffee table he sat next to on the dust-sheet covered floor; “it feels like an age since I got to get my hands dirty~” he smiled, his features ecstatic: “this sure as hell beats standing behind a check-out register and re-stocking shelves” he breathed wistfully. “But little guys like me an’ my pals, well? When bigger construction companies can offer people with quirks that get the job down twice as fast, heh… we kind’a became surplus to requirements, you know?” he sighed; “yeah… skillsets seem to be something that most folks just don’t value these days, you know?”

Nodding softly, his own form moving to sit across from him, Shouta gestured at the ground; “everyone I approached about opening my café here told me I was insane” he offered mildly: “some even offered me work elsewhere” he admitted when the other baulked at him. “I knew what I wanted to do and, regardless of their logical observations, I couldn’t just walk away” he related, their eyes meeting; “however, at that time I didn’t have children to support… and you have such a wonderful family that you’re clearly putting first” he reasoned. “But… what would you say to me putting your details, and those of the friend who’s coming to assist you tomorrow, on my “connections and contacts” board?” he asked. “I can’t make any promises _but_ there’ve got to be people out there who want a true professional of your trade, right? And I’d be more than happy to supply myself as a reference” he said thoughtfully, his hands gesturing at the clean, expert work he observed.

Blinking, his cheeks pinking a little, Ryou chuckled sheepishly and rubbed the back of his neck; “you’re a very good man, Aizawa” he returned: “hell, if I’d had even half of your efficacy at your age then I’d probably be running the Country by now~” he chuckled. “I’d be _thrilled_ , honestly, if you’d do that for us” he said earnestly; “for even just the chance to get back on my feet, make good money at the labour I love and support my two best girls, hell~ even the thought of it is enough for me~” he grinned, his glass raised in a toast.

Returning the gesture with his favourite, Pusheen coffee mug he’d brought upstairs with him, the café owner allowed the other’s plans for the downstairs remodel to wash over him as the older man’s words played on his mind.

Having skills to pass on to the next generation was a viable and well-paying thing to do, wasn’t it?

Hmm…

Perhaps All Might wouldn’t mind asking Nezu-san if he knew of any schools or Colleges that’d be interested in employing Uraraka-san and his friend to teach such things?

 _Hmm_ …

~*~

When night-time came, Inko walked her son and Hitoshi to her apartment (the boys had asked for a sleepover since an All Might Special was playing on the TV; when the pair had gushed over it, Shouta could barely hold back his snicker at the bewildered, nonplussed looks worn by the teenagers he’d unofficially, officially taken-in) and the MU students returned for a night-cap.

With so many exams, essays and assignments due before the end of the month, going out for nights on the town or partaking in the multi-sensory arcades, cinemas and theatres was a luxury that’d have to wait until the summer-holidays rolled around in July.

Heh, he remembered his own late-night cramming sessions in his sparse, quiet dorm-room; he was incredibly pleased that he could make this inviting space for them as the sound-system gently hummed out soft, crooning jazz, his beloved Italian machine scented the air with freshly ground beans whilst the last batch of cookies he was baking were nearly done.

Hmm.

And soon this space would be all the more inviting, wouldn’t it?

For Uraraka-san had left at 19:00, his Kei-truck loaded with old wall-paper, bricks, his tools and three slices of Devil’s Food Cake for his wife and child to enjoy _but_ he’d be back at 08:00 the next morning with his old friend and he, in preparation, had stored up plenty of water for himself and his found-family to use.

You couldn’t rip up toilets, sinks or radiators and add new plumbing with it on, of course; hmm, perhaps it’d be worth them all going for a day out somewhere whilst the work was being done?

Jotting the idea down to ask his boys later, Shouta then looked around the eatery, his keen gaze checking that mugs and glasses were full, empty-plates had been cleared and that the MU students were as content as they could be whilst they (and some of their middle-school kohais) continued to swap ideas, read and craft revision notes.

Heh.

Such good kids.

And speaking of good kids, Dabi and Tomura were (cutely) sharing a bean-bag in the gaming area, the decay quirk user’s personal tablet held between them as they continued to make information posters for their soon to be furry-housemates.

Watching them quietly talking, lightly bickering and _finally_ compromising on which photos to use, the fonts, styles, colours and the like was _irrationally_ adorable.

* **Ding-ding** *

Looking to the door, Shouta felt his eyebrows raise a fraction, a smile tugging his lips as Shiretoko Tomoko slipped inside with a little wave, a satchel clutched to her chest and her smile a little wobbly as she marvelled at the framed, cat-photos, his fairy-light outlined contacts-board, the herbs in his unused service hatch and all of the students working.

“Welcome to the Noraneko Café” he greeted with his usual tone; “what can I get you?”

Virtually skipping over to him, her pretty, unpainted face alight with glee, the woman whom he’d received _several_ text-messages from since they’d left the shelter that afternoon (heh; he knew that she meant well: he could see that those huge smiles, enthusiasm and hyperactivity could very well be a front for how marginalised and lonely she felt) bounced on the spot.

“ _This place is **amazing**_ ~!” she stage-whispered; “ _please_ , I wanna work here anyway, as anything, right now, if you’d like~!?” she gushed.

Holding his hands up in surrender, his smile spreading despite himself, Shouta shook his head; “as much as I appreciate the offer” he told her: “and as much as I _did_ invite you over tonight, I had… _ulterior_ motives” he relayed before picking up the business-card Loud Cloud had passed him and sliding it over to her on the service bar.

“E-eh?” she breathed, her delicately varnished nails reaching for it, the woman (whose long hair was tied up in a bun similar to his own) blinked owlishly; “a… Pro Hero Agency?” she murmured.

“Again… I hope you won’t find it too forward of me _but_ , considering how… _proud_ you were of your license, I thought it’d be a shame if you couldn’t get to use it” he mused, the amber of her irises being rapidly eaten up by glistening pupils. “They’re currently a team of three and, well? After texting them earlier, they’re very excited to meet you” he stated, his right hand rubbing the back of his neck a little sheepishly; “and by _excited_ , I mean the level of energy you gave us when we met you at the Shelter earlier” he huffed.

“A-A-Aiza-wa-sa~” the other managed, her hands clutching the bag even harder against her chest; “y-you… you did alla that, f-for me?” she gasped: “y-you… you don’t even k-know me, I…”

“That’s what he does~!” Dabi yelled from the gaming area, a handful of her fellow University students chorusing the same; “just say thank you and let him turn your world upside down” he added before, his head looking up from the tablet with his partner: “so welcome to the family, or something, I guess?”

~*~ 

By 21:00, Tomoko had calmed down a touch, eaten more than her fair share of cookies and gotten her paw-print covered laptop out to power through a set of data-sheets she needed to do for Monday, her pinked tongue curling up her top-lip in a show of concentration. 

Then, like clock-work, in the Pro Heroes came, their smiles wide as they greeted him, waved at Kaoruko Awata who winked at them, her blue cheeks puffing cutely as she shoved the last, chocolate-chip confection from her plate and into her mouth before Present Mic’s wriggling, pilfering fingers could snatch it.

“So, where’s the lovely-lady you told us all about, hmm?” Loud Cloud asked as he leaned suggestively on the service bar before he thwacked him away (“ _don’t dirty-up my freshly cleaned work-surface, you fluffy-headed menace_ "), his brows waggling despite the shove he’d received; “I’m _sure_ she’s not as lovely as _you_ , Shou-chan~!”

Snorting, his eyes rolling, Shouta inclined his head at the star-struck, emerald haired woman who’d quickly shut her laptop down, shoved it into her satchel and wandered closer to stand in the space between the herb-peppered hatch and the table she’d been sat at.

Walking to the opposite side of his service bar and looking over the area where bamboo-chopsticks, sugar, crème and similarly eco-friendly spoons and cutlery were housed, the café owner watched as the three Pros followed, their eyes alighting upon the person he hoped that they’d take to, look-after and support.

“Ragdoll” he introduced; “this is Midnight, Present Mic and Loud Cloud” he said whilst gesturing to each in turn: “don’t let their terrible costume choices, unruly hair and unprofessional manner fool you” he advised (the three of them gawping at him and sputtering indignantly). “They’re the real deal and some of the best people I know” he finished with a shrug, his words then causing the three to _actually_ tear-up with cries of “ _wah~ Shou-chan~ we **knew** that you liked us~! Ahh~!_”

Tch.

Such an illogical display; everything he’d said was true enough, wasn’t it?

“O-oh, ugh hi~!” Tomoko grinned; “umm… I… I don’t have my outfit with me, but… umm… are you guys on a patrol like, a _real_ patrol right, heckin now~?!” she squealed delightedly.

Snapping their attention back to her, Shouta watched with the same, horrified fascination of someone viewing a train-wreck, as the _completely_ expected events unfolded.

“Heck yeah we are~!”

“We’re _all_ about patrolling~!”

“Would you like to come with us, cutie-kitty~?!”

“Oh, really?! Really?! _Yatta~!!_ ” 

Wow.

He was surprised that his lights didn’t flicker in the power-surge that was _surely_ being generated by all of that frenetic energy.

Hmm.

“Then what’re we waiting for~?” the jade-eyed blonde veritably chirped; “let’s go, oh yeah~!”

~*~

Closing up the café, a yawn stretching his lips, he checked in with Inko (she sent him a photo of the boys slumped into each other on her couch in their matching, All Might jammies, the number one Pro’s TV special ending as they slept with open mouths, their heads propped up together), locked the door, set the alarm and made his way into the kitchen.

“You handed over my beloved top-hat and cane… to the _police_?”

Moving on reflex, his quirk flashing bloody-red, Shouta had snagged a knife from his wooden, butcher’s block and was stood defensively in front of the door which led to his home’s stairs whilst, a little grin stretching his lips, _Mr Compress_ stood where he’d just walked through, his gloveless hands raised in surrender.

Only no, this wasn’t the theatrical dickhead whose arms he should have snapped.

 _No_ , this was the quiet brunette with (obviously fake) blue eyes and a nose-bandage who came by from time to time to drink coffee or tea with a slice of cake and a good book.

He’d been in the café for an hour or so at 15:00, hadn’t he?

Tch.

He should have fucking known.

“I’m sure that the authorities would be _more_ than pleased to see you if you wanted to head over there and ask for them” he offered, his eyes narrowed; “ _there’s_ the door” he gestured with the business end of his lethally sharp santoku-blade.

“Maa~ Aizawa-san, I come in peace” the slightly taller man stated, his lips pouting; “I know that we didn’t have the most… fortuitous of starts” he hedged, a sweat-drop swelling at his temple: “ano… since you’re such a pilar of the community and so good at helping people I, ugh… I was hoping that maybe you could, umm… work your magic on me, neh?”

“Is that a sexual euphemism?” he deadpanned, his crimson glare reigniting.

“A-ah, ahahaa~!” the other tried, his tone nervous; “umm… as _delightful_ as a romantic evening would be with you, you know, without the silverware” he grinned, his shoulders sagging a little: “I am, unfortunately, quite serious” he sighed. “I fear that the lavish life I’ve been trying to carve out for myself with my misdeeds has left me feeling a little… vacuous” he furthered with a shrug; “I have lots of expensive things, shiny trinkets and the like but, well? I’m mostly unfulfilled and unhappy” he huffed. “In fact? The happiest I’ve been for a while is when I’m sat on that back-booth with something delicious to eat and the sounds of life going on all about me” he added, his tone a little sheepish; “I was a performer, once” he mused: “and I had such… _hopes_ , you know?”

Not letting his guard down (the prick was more than likely lying), Shouta regarded him carefully.

“What kind of crimes have you committed?” he asked, his tone blunt but enquiring.

“O-oh, eh… well? I’m a _transport_ specialist” he tried after a nervous cough; “I’ve stolen things that I like but… ugh, I’m not exactly built for fighting and… outside of your case, ugh… anyone who I’ve ever _transported_ has lived to see another day… if, you know, more than a little hospitalised” he furthered before, with a wail, he fell to his knees.

Baulking, his knife slashing down (just to be safe) to remain at a defensive angle, the café owner kept his gaze on the other’s hands even as the man bowed his head; “ohh~ I’m a terrible, horrible person aren’t I? I’m sorry, you know? For all of it” he ground out dramatically. “I…”

“What are you doing?”

Blinking, his head snapping up to look at him, the younger man shook his head dispassionately; “come on, get up” he told him, his tone exasperated. “Look? You want to change your ways and atone for what you’ve done, right?” he pushed, the other sniffling, nodding and pulling to a stand; “okay, I believe I have a contact who could help you _but_ it won’t be easy” he huffed, his blade still trained on the other. 

“R-really? Y-you mean it?”

Sighing (because, honestly? What had his life become?), Shouta nodded; “from what little I know of you, Mr Compress…”

“Ahh~ Sako Atsukiro, please, Aizawa-san~”

“ _Sako-san_ ” he continued with a strained incline of his head; “based on what you’ve said and the kind of attention you’re after… why not become a Pro Hero and then a teacher?”

Watching as the man blinked at him owlishly, the slightly shorter man continued on; “Sir Nighteye happens to be a customer of mine” he told him: “he and his Agency do a great deal of work with the Criminal Justice system and one of his most famous projects is the ‘Villain Rehabilitation Initiative’… you’ve heard of that, right?”

Humming, his head tilting comically to the side, the brunette continued to blink; “a… a teacher?”

“You’re clearly a well-educated man if your vernacular is anything to do by” he reasoned; “so fast-tracking you for that kind of training should be relatively doable… then, with a quirk like yours and that… _flamboyance_ you have” he continued, his left hand slipping into his back-pocket to grasp his phone and activate its AI. “I believe that’d be a good-match for you… I can _call_ Sir Nighteye for you, of course” he furthered; “a captive audience of young minds must be appealing to you, surely?”

“Huh… you know? I’d never really thought about that” the other said slowly, a hand rubbing thoughtfully at his chin; “teenagers are such a fun crowd to work with” he admitted, his head now nodding: “do… do you really think it’s possible?”

“I don’t see why not” he answered; “but, I’m by no means an expert and haven’t looked into the work that he and his Agency does in an official capacity” he told him: “he’s an incredibly officious man, though… and, for the opportunity to change someone who has the capacity to do so, well? I don’t need to tell you how impressive your quirk is” he shrugged. “Teaching children when you have the power to protect them and effectively get them out of harm’s way during training or whatever it is that the hero courses do must be a bonus, wouldn’t you say?”

“Y-yes, yes you’re right” Atsukiro breathed; “maa~ that’s a great idea, Aizawa-san~” he gushed before, with a blink, their heads snapped back towards the café as…

* **Bang-bang-bang~!** *

“Ahh” the taller man sighed, his smile dimming; “my ride, I take it?”

“Don’t do anything foolish” Shouta breathed, his red gaze narrowing; “walk out calmly and quietly and I’ll vouch for you, alright?”

“W-what?” the former performer baulked; “you… you _meant_ what you said?”

“I’m not in the habit of saying things I don’t mean” he huffed, his head inclining to the fire-door behind his bewildered intruder; “now come on, get a move on before whoever responded to the call busts my door down” he chuffed.

“I’ll bill you for it if they do…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ugh... as a fellow "theatre-kid" whose dreams of stardom remained dreams, well? I can't help but empathise with Mr Compress...
> 
> Also, can you imagine him teaching at UA? Because I CAN~!
> 
> Honestly, I think he'd make an excellent teacher and hey, we're all about redemption in this house~!
> 
> Well...
> 
> Aside from one, particular big-nasty who's the star of major plot point two...
> 
> Heh...
> 
> Oh, and yeah... that's not Sir Nighteye at the cafe door... I should imagine, after Shouta's phone AI "calls Sir Nighteye" the man picks up the call, hears the conversation and puts an emergency call out to any Pros in the area...
> 
> Hmm...
> 
> Who could be close by, I wonder?
> 
> ; )
> 
> WAH~! I'M HAVING SO MUCH FUN THANK YOU FOR ENJOYING THIS WITH ME~!!
> 
> *All the hugs, guys... like, ALL of them~!!*


	33. All Might…

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Warnings include: ANGST, heavy is the head that wears the crown, societal-pressures, hero-pressures, death-threats, intimidation, threats of violence, swearing, worry and...**
> 
> **FFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEELLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS~!!**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Umm...
> 
> Tissues?
> 
> Yeah, tissues would be good...

Edging the intruder towards the door, his blade glinting (heh; he remembered his high school Food Tech teacher extolling the virtues of having professional, top of the range knives: she’d agreed that the expense was steep _but_ the rewards would greatly out-weigh the cost and she’s been right, hadn’t she?), Shouta rolled his eyes when the banging continued.

Tch.

After being able to (and unexpectedly) save so much yen, he _really_ didn’t want to spend any money replacing what was a perfectly good door.

Damn it.

“Move, _now_ ” he grunted.

Watching as the other sighed, turned around and shoved the barrier open before walking through it to the Service Bar, the café owner then had to endure the inevitable chaos of…

“Shou~! What’s going on?! Are you okay?!”

Dabi and Tomura bolting down the stairs, their pyjama covered forms tense and eyes wild; considering they were in soft, matching, oversized jersey t-shirts and shorts (in dove grey with cats and food items dotted all over them in different colours) and bare-feet, they looked _incredibly_ menacing…

“Wah~! Oh God, _oh no_ ~! He’s going to kill me~! _Help me~!!_ ”

Mr Compress flailing and rushing to hide behind him (clearly more terrified by who was outside then the knife he’d very nearly cut him with) as he joined him in his main work-space, his taller frame curled around the back of him to hesitantly look over his shoulder and…

“ **Knock down my door and there’ll be no more muffins for you mister, _none_! You hear me~?!**”

All Might looming ominously outside his café, plumes of steam jetting from his nostrils as he crowded the doorway whilst the neon-blue of his supernatural eyes blazed like will-o-the-wisps in the darkness.

_God._

What _was_ his life, right now?

“You son of a bitch~!” Dabi snarled, his venomous tone dragging his attention back towards the kitchen where the pair glowered intimidatingly, their glares shifting from the hands gripping his shoulders to the former performer, himself; “get your _filthy_ hands off of him before you lose them all together~!”

Sighing as the villain(?) still clutching onto him like a life-raft (trembling and ducking even further behind him; he’d not used his quirk though, or tried to take him hostage; hmm) let out something akin to a sob whilst the teens stood in the entryway, his lodger’s hair aflame and his partner’s hands now gloveless, Shouta rolled his eyes, sucked in a breath and shook his head.

“Everybody, _calm down_ ” he said, his santoku pointing at All Might; “you? Back up and away from the door, go on…” he shouted with a gesture before looking over his shoulder at the brunette who was _actually_ quivering: “he’s not going to hurt you” he stated, his gaze then slanting to his young friends. “ _No_ one is going to hurt anybody, alright?”

“B-but, Shou, he’s…”

“I understand your feelings” he smiled at his unofficial ward; “and I thank you for wanting to defend me… you honestly have no idea what that means to me” he furthered warmly: “but neither of you is going to jail for murder, not on my watch” he stated firmly, his tone brokering no argument.

“Tch, you serve less time for assault” Dabi growled, those turquoise eyes alight with _actual_ heat as he scowled furiously at (the genuinely terrified) Mr Compress.

“Grievous bodily-harm gets a pretty low sentence these days, too” Tomura added ominously, a nasty smirk tugging his lips; “you’d be _pretty_ useless without your hands, now, wouldn’t you?”

“ _Wah~! No, please… **please** no~!_” the former performer begged; “I’m a changed man, I s-swear~!”

Chuffing out a laugh (because this was all so _irrationally_ ridiculous), the eatery owner opened the smart-till’s draw, placed the knife into it, closed it and walked over to the alarm panel with _everyone_ watching his movements, the brunette clamped onto him like a living, breathing turtle-shell.

God.

Why did he have to put up with such things?

Then, the sensors deactivated, he turned on the lights, grabbed Atsukiro by his right wrist (not to harshly) and pulled him past the security gate and into the café proper before gesturing for him to approach the second booth (he wasn’t sure that his oldest ward would take kindly to his spot being taken), his hand raising when the other went to talk.

“ _Sit_ ” he ordered.

Watching as the older man quivered _but_ went and sat without complaint, his features uneasy, Shouta then walked to the café door, opened it and stood before a still bristling Symbol of Peace.

Wow.

There were a plot of pulsing veins writhing across those astonishing muscles; damn…

Did the Pro _run_ here?

“Take it easy, big guy” he soothed, his hands raised placatingly when he realised just how high-strung he was; “no one needs Texas Smashing, alright?”

Grinning fiercely, the blonde allowed a strained nod to bend that impressive neck; “I’m… very glad… that everything… is okay” he managed to get out in semi-friendly tone.

Damn.

The big lug had been worried, hadn’t he?

Nodding, he walked away and beckoned him inside whilst pulling out his phone, the teens regarding him as though he’d grown an extra head; “Sir Nighteye, are you still there?”

“Yes” came the response on loudspeaker, the sound of traffic filtering behind him; “my ETA is five minutes.”

“I’ll start up the coffee machine” he replied; “see you soon” he finished before taking in the stress-laden situation that was mounting all around him.

Atuskiro was sat on the plush bench, _literally_ sweating bullets…

Dabi was now flameless (but still fuming) and Tomura was pouting, his quirk-restricting gloves sliding back on…

All Might was still in the doorway, his shadowed face locked onto the brunette with an intensity that could _probably_ wither a steel-girder.

_Wonderful_

“Okay” he stated, his legs walking towards the boys who he pulled into a gentle squeeze; he’d wanted to make a teasing remark about how cute they looked in their nightwear _but_ decided against it (he could coo over them and make a fuss later) as the tension bled from their shoulders. “Thank you, for looking out for me” he whispered to them before pulling away; “we’ve got a busy day tomorrow, so why don’t you head upstairs and put on one of those movies you said I had to watch?” he offered. “I’ll bring us up some hot-chocolate when we’re done, okay?”

Grunting, their turquoise and crimson glares zeroing in on the villain who’d disturbed the night they’d had planned (with Hitoshi being away for the night, they’d planned on watching something a little more exciting than the ‘U’ rated anime that their youngest family member enjoyed so much), the teens muttered death threats but walked away.

Heh, such good kids.

Then, knowing that they were settled, he returned to the coffee machine, switched it on and started it up; “what in the world are you doing all the way on this side of town?” he called conversationally, his hands grabbing four mugs and going through how each of the men preferred their caffeine. “Izuku and Hitoshi were really impressed with that special of yours tonight, too… so expect them to ask you all about it when you see them next” he added as though this was a _completely_ normal set up at a normal time of day.

When he didn’t get an answer, he turned to regard the man; he seemed… unable to move?

Pouring three of the beverages out, he carefully walked past him, put a mug in front of Sako (who whispered a hurried “ _are-you-sure-he-isn’t-going-to-kill-me-because-he-looks-like-he’s-struggling-not-to-please-I-don’t-want-to-die!_ ”), snorted at him and then made his approach to the taller hero.

When the other still looked pensive, he gently reached out to place his hand (at least two times smaller than the other’s; holy shit) on the impressive bulk of the power-house’s right arm; “you wanna come in properly and sit at your usual table? Heh, you’re not offended about what I said earlier, right? I was only joking about the muffins, you know?” he tried to chuckle.

“S-Shouta-kun, I…” the other breathed out; “I had _thought_ …”

“Hey, it’s alright” he smiled; “now come on… let’s get you settled and I’ll bring you a drink and something different I’ve been working on that I wanted you to try, okay?” he grinned: “not even Dabi’s tried this recipe yet and, although I was going to save it for the cat-café opening next week, well? I may as well get your opinion while you’re here, hadn’t I?”

Grunting, the submitted to his pull, the stiffness of his limbs easing whilst they moved towards one of the table set-ups he usually chose to sit in when he visited or waited for an order to be boxed-up.

It also happened to be a good ten feet away from a _very_ wary Mr Compress. 

Hmm.

He probably shouldn’t leave them alone, together should he; shit, when was…

* **Beep-beep!** *

“Ahh, right on time” he breathed, his own relief flooding him as he looked to the sedan as it pulled up, Bubble Girl and Centipeder already jumping from the back, passenger seats to rush forward, their bodies slowing at his placating gesture. 

“Welcome to the Noraneko Café” he said, his body walking back towards the service-bar; “what can I get you?”

~*~

Little more than twenty minutes later saw a much calmer scene in his humble, little eatery.

It’d just gone 22:22, Dabi and Tomura were spamming his phone with questions and gifs that involved violence in varying degrees; heh, he’d tried not to laugh when one particular animation showed a caricature of All Might _actually_ smashing another avatar to bits.

Heh.

That kind of went against the other’s sunny, pleasant image, didn’t it?

However, there was no denying the fierce intensity he’d just witnessed; it was hard to remember, sometimes, given his broad smiles and jolly demeanour, that their Country’s Symbol of Peace could _literally_ demolish a skyscraper with one, well-placed punch.

He was also a _person_.

A person who seemed to be wrestling with some, unseen enemy as he sat there, still coiled like a spring ready to bound around and hurt something.

Maybe even himself.

_Hmm…_

“Okay, Sako-san… I am _satisfied_ that you meet the majority of my Initiative’s criteria” he heard Sir Nighteye say, his yellow-suited form sat across from the brunette who looked just about ready to pass out.

Heh, nothing less than he deserved.

“You will hand over your stolen assets and surrender yourself to my custody, yes?”

Watching the scene from where he was stood behind the Service Bar, Shouta took in the Pro’s empty plate (he didn’t really care for sweets; however, he’d accepted the sandwich he’d whipped up for him with a fond, indulgent smile) and mug before turning to All Might as he sat with the two sidekicks. 

Centipeder (who, on the flip side, seemed to go for anything sugary) and Bubble Girl had both enjoyed their hot chocolates and demolished the plate of cookies he’d sat between them (he’d bake more in the morning for Uraraka-san and his compatriot).

Then, his cautious gaze landed on the sun-kissed Pro who was _finally_ settling down.

The generous slice “Black Forest Gâteaux” he’d made (which, outside of the Devil’s Food Cake, was the most _decadent_ thing he’d ever tried; however, there’d been a fantastic sale on sun-ripened, black-cherries and he’d been unable to resist making one since it seemed like a sin to boil all of the fruit up _just_ for syrup) was untouched.

Hmm.

“I understand” the brunette nodded; “and… thank you” he said with an earnest bow: “I… have been misguided and overzealous in my selfish ambitions” he admitted, his hand reaching for the pen that the stern-faced Pro had offered him. “I swear to you that I’ll do my best” he added before, those doe eyes (the contact-lenses having been removed) slipping over to him, his lips pulling into a small smile; “heh… it seems that I’ve found a new muse to inspire me” he grinned.

Rolling his eyes, he heard his huff before he realised that he’d released it; “don’t go laying anything like that on me, thank you” he told him bluntly: “if you do this, you do this for yourself and for the next generation that’ll come after you” he stated. “You’re taking on a big responsibility, so make sure that you commit to it for your own reasons” he furthered, his arms crossing; “but, if you _do_ manage to pull this off, then I suppose you can return here as a customer” he shrugged.

“Well, so long as my boys forgive you, first.”

~*~

When he returned to the café after tidying away the dishes, he wasn’t too surprised to see that the side-kicks had been the ones to take Atsukiro away to the new life he would hopefully carve out for himself in a separate, police car whilst, both now sitting at the table, All Might and Sir Nighteye quietly talked.

It was 22:30.

Sure, it wasn’t late by anyone’s standards (he didn’t usually fall asleep before 00:00 anyway; a life keeping watch over four, nightmare prone boys would do that to you) _but_ he was a little concerned that he may have over-stepped his boundaries by calling these men in the first place.

He’d been able to handle Sako by himself, hadn’t he?

Feeling more than a little guilty, the gâteau still resting on the table, he quietly walked around to them; “I’m sorry” he began: “I should have called the police, in the first instance” he admitted with a little nod. “It was…”

Closing his mouth, Shouta allowed the other to fold around him after he’d stood, those massive arms (strong enough to crush a bus without breaking a sweat) encircling him and holding him close.

Holding him like he was something that the other could have lost.

Slowly, he returned the gesture; hell, or at least he tried to.

His arms would need to be at least three feet longer to wrap around the big-lug, wouldn’t they?

“I… I am so _glad_ that you’re alright” the blonde told him before, with a jerky, abortive motion, he pulled away a little shame-faced; “s-sorry” he stated: “that was… _intrusive_ of me, I…”

“It’s fine” he returned, their eyes locking; “heh… hugs seem to be the order of the day as of late” he shrugged: “and you’re wrong to think that I’d mind” he told him with a smile. “Something tells me that you could do with a lot more of them” he added, his expression softening; “carrying the weight of our safety on your shoulders has got to be _really_ fucking tough” he acknowledged; “so I want you to know that you are _always_ welcome here… not as the Symbol of Peace, but as someone who just needs a place to be _you_ , alright?”

Watching as the man baulked, Sir Nighteye similarly standing, his usually stern countenance wavering, the slender hero offered him a deep bow; “thank you, Aizawa-san” he said in his best friend’s stead: “you… you can’t understand what that means” he offered.

“Heh, well… that goes for you as well, Sir” he grinned; “and hey? If the two of you want a _real_ taste of normality, our local Pros and I will be painting, tidying and getting everything ready for the cats tomorrow afternoon if you’d like to join us?”

~*~

Waving the pair off (they’d been _oddly_ delighted by the thought of getting covered in paint; how… irrational), Shouta rubbed his tense shoulders, yawned and returned to his kitchen. 

‘ _Please don’t let anything else weird happen tonight…_ ’ he internally muttered, the hot-chocolate he’d offered his boys in hand, he’d _finally_ made it up the stairs…

“Ahh…”

To see his young friends snoozing on the sofa, a movie playing across the wide-screen at a low volume as Tomura rested across Dabi’s chest amidst his parted legs, the flame quirk user’s arms loosely wrapped over his partner’s back, his head tilted back on the old couch’s plush armrest. 

_Adorable_.

Snickering to himself, he put the drinks on the coffee table (they’d happily drink them cold if they woke up, wouldn’t they?), quietly checked they were comfortable, dimmed the A/C and switched off the movie before padding to his room, his phone in hand.

Hmm…

Maybe he should have talked to the older boys about inviting the men who’d just left over tomorrow?

No, it’d be okay.

Neither of them would mind, too much, that the heroes were coming by he was sure; they’d already agreed that the five of them (Inko had allowed Izuku joining their merry band) would go out in the morning when the loud, dusty work would take place and then, that afternoon, he’d let them paint and decorate the three bedrooms.

It was only fair that his boys get to style their living spaces, wasn’t it?

Heh, the excited look on Hitoshi’s face and Dabi ordering spray-paint for motif work, his smile _genuinely_ thrilled, had been enough to make him want to buy several apartments for them to play with.

Tch.

How illogical.

However, he couldn’t deny that he was looking forward to seeing what the three would do; Izuku (the sensible, easily pleased young man that he was) had offered to supervise their efforts and he, in turn, would oversee the adults in the cat-area.

Hmm…

It was a little worrying that he felt the older people would need overseeing as opposed to the younger, wasn’t it?

***Bzz-bzz-bzz-bzz***

Blinking, his own bedroom door quietly closing behind him, Shouta approached his futon (with its plain, blue sheets in its austere, four-walled setting, his laptop, phone-charger and lamp the only furnishings as there was a small chest of draws within the built-in, sliding-door wardrobe) and set on it with a sigh.

AM: “This cake is… I… I don’t have words!”

Ahh, so the big lug had _finally_ calmed down enough to eat it, huh?

Good.

AS: “you can have the rest of it tomorrow, if you like? Cream doesn’t do well in this weather even in a chiller” he wrote back before, his smile dimming; “how are you feeling?”

AM: “…”

Quirking a brow (it was probably too personal a question; he… really didn’t understand how interactions between people his own age and slightly older people worked: dealing with younger people and _much_ older people was what he’d always been used to, after all), he hummed, striped off his t-shirt, opened the wardrobe and shoved it into his laundry-basket.

His jeans and light-weight socks followed before, his eyes assessing the handful of outfits he had (he’d put his oldest, most tattered t-shirt and shorts to one-side for tomorrow’s _decorating_ session) before grabbing a pair of pj pants from the top-draw of his chest and slipping them on.

That way he could sleep on top of the covers and still be decently dressed if Dabi or Tomura had a nightmare and needed soothing.

AM: “how… do you do that?”

Tilting his head confusedly (was… that question meant for him?), Shouta hummed; AS: “do what?”

AM: “completely disarm me with simple questions that’re genuinely meant?”

Regarding the message quizzically, the café owner felt… at a loss.

Surely the man, world-famous, _adored_ by millions, was constantly being asked such things…

Was being _taken care_ of…

It’d be ridiculous to think otherwise, right?

Illogical…

 _Awful_ …

AS: “are you deflecting the question?” he pushed; “I have no interest in any gossip, I assure you… I am _concerned_ about you, though” he admitted because that was the truth.

He’d _never_ been held like that before.

It made him wonder, it made him worry.

Just how many people had All Might lost?

How many ghosts of loved ones haunted those broad, impossible shoulders?

 _Why_ was no one (ahh, that was probably wrong of him to assume; he saw how Sir Nighteye looked at his _friend_ (maybe more? He wouldn’t want to speculate), how protective he was) checking up on him and his mental wellbeing?

Now that he stopped and _really_ thought about it… what kind of devastation were those smiles, laughs and poses hiding?

And what could he do, other than throw cake at the problem?

 _Shit_ …

AM: “I… am unsure as to how to answer it…”

Tch.

 _Fuck_ , that wasn’t good, was it?

Hell, and here he’d thought of himself as emotionally constipated…

AS: “It’s gotta be hard for you” he conceded; “I bet you rarely get a chance to be yourself” he added because, well? That’s what happened to celebrities, wasn’t it?

You build up a brand, an image, a style and then _poof_ , out with the person, in with what people _wanted_ you to be.

God.

_No thanks…_

AS: “for what it’s worth? I see you” he told him, rightly or wrongly; “there’s no hiding who you _truly_ are when you gush over my study group, coo at the café’s cat-photos or eat muffins” he continued, his smile broadening. “Underneath all those action-figures, flashy-posters, legends, tactical-intellect and muscles… you’re just a big, sappy dope, aren’t you?”

AM: “…”

AM: “Sent a Photo”

Blinking, a laugh snort flowing out of him despite himself, Shouta shook his head ruefully at the hammy, overly-shocked face (All Might’s left hand was even pressed dramatically to his forehead, his lips pouting) that was sent back to him with a clearly guffawing Sir Nighteye holding his sides in the background.

Heh.

How illogically cute…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ;_;
> 
> My boi Yagi has been on my mind a lot lately and it's mainly thanks to some of the AMAZING comments that y'all have written to me... with one really thoughtful comment from Shivera, in particular, giving me a "hmm" moment...
> 
> For all of his smiles... who are Toshinori's friends? Sure, he has Nighteye, Nedzu and Gran Torino but... when you're a hero at such a level, when you sacrifice things that many of us regular folks take for granted (such as friends/family) because you don't want to get them hurt/you could _literally_ go out on a mission and never come back...
> 
> You could go on a mission _every-day_ and be exposed to death on a large scale...
> 
> Deaths you couldn't prevent, well?
> 
> God, I couldn't cope with that...
> 
> Now, many of you will ask if this is gonna get SHIPPY (cus we ALL wants a ship and setting up cat-dad to have someone he can cuddle up with has similarly been on my mind too; our main cat-man deserves ALL the nice things) and my answer is...
> 
> I'm not sure?
> 
> Like I keep saying (but these beautiful, WONDERFUL characters keep talking and having feelings~! They won't let me rest~!) I have mapped out two more MAJOR plot point revolving around one scary-old-man with a quirk fetish and a walking dumpster-fire...
> 
> Ohh... are they EVER gonna get what's coming to them~!
> 
> And, for the time being? That's my focus...
> 
> However, look at how far we've come? We're over 100,000 words, people... and, as what I've mapped out evolves and changes, a ship may very well appear.
> 
> We'll just have to wait and see as I want it to happen in flux; keeping cat-dad at the centre of his ever expending community and the good he's doing is and probably will always be this story's main focus~!
> 
> ^_^
> 
> THANK you for all of your encouragement, support, comments and questions~!
> 
> I feel SO loved~!
> 
> P.S. Do I want a tag-artist Dabi in my life?
> 
> Why yes, yes I do~!
> 
> XD


	34. Sundays...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Warnings include: Shouta-WHUMP (I... I don't know where this chapter came from... they were MEANT to be PAINTING here; tch, I'll have to double update tomorrow... Shou-chan, I love BUT you've got to stop doing this to me, man... you're breaking-my heart... BUT I'm gonna give you SO MUCH LOVE~! You don't understand~!!), angst, swearing, reflections on childhood and...**
> 
> **FFFFFFEEEEEEEEEEEEEELLLLLLSSSSS~!!**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wah~! I've had so many beautiful people comment as I was tidying this up...
> 
> It's just gone 01:00 in the morning here in good 'ol Blighty, so I'll DEFINITELY reply to y'all tomorrow... but now? I needs me my nap-time~!
> 
> Also, ElemenTalia? Is the "feels" a good size now/not blocking the link you need to click? Please let me know if this is better~!
> 
> WAH~! And Miramise~! You lil cutie~! Look at you, look at what you've done~! I'm gonna talk your cute lil ears off tomorrow, I is~!
> 
> Honestly? All of you?
> 
> I've never had this much love/support/kindness from commenters on a fic before...
> 
> I hope you all know how much it means to me~!
> 
> *Infinity hugs for EVERYONE one~!!*
> 
> ^_^

Morning awoke him (with the same, unsettling jolting of bones and snapping of eyelids) as it usually did, his alarm (why did he bother?) set for 05:00 whilst his natural, body-clock found 04:47 to be a better option; hmm, _how_ did people sleep a full eight hours?

Heh, maybe he should start napping in the day time; he could always sneak a camp-bed or sleeping bag into the café somewhere, couldn’t he?

Sleep amongst the customers, lounge across the tables, slump under the till?

 _Tch_.

What an irrational thought.

Then, shaking such an image out of his head and humming to himself (a habit he’d never been able to break) he sat up, switched off his alarm, rolled off his futon and started doing press-ups. Once the required fifty were done, he pulled himself up, ran through a few kata and moved, swiftly, to his wardrobe where he grabbed the two outfits he’d be wearing today.

The first was the sky-blue t-shirt with a black cat painted over his heart (the same one he’d worn on their last outing, if he remembered rightly) with black, loose cargo-pants and similarly black, unbranded sneakers. The same sneakers that’d cost him just under 5000yen five years ago and were still serviceable; how anyone could or _would_ pay more just for a symbol or a logo was beyond him; _illogical_. 

The second was an old, baggy t-shirt in faded red and his running-shorts (he could get more; there were a few good sales at the outlet Mall Tomura had bought Hitoshi’s lovely blue suit from, wasn’t there?) and some 500yen flip-flops he wore when cleaning the bathroom.

Then, laying the clothes out on his freshly made-up futon (he’d have to wash all of their bedding at some point this week, wouldn’t he?) he quietly peaked through his bedroom door to see the teens still snoozing away where he’d left them the night before.

Hmm, it’d start getting warm soon, wouldn’t it?

Grabbing the A/C control, his kicked it up a notch, made his way to the bathroom (heh, one of two he had to choose from now; so _decadent_ , whatever would his other little brothers think when they came for a visit?) for a quick shower.

He’d offer the other bathroom (Uraraka-san had done a great job scrubbing up the tiles, grouting them and adding brand new fixtures and fittings; Dabi had asked him if they were going to buy one of those _singing-toilets_ : the look he’d given the teen had sent him into a fit of hysterics) to the teens. 

They were growing young men and would probably appreciate the space and he was sure that Hitoshi wouldn’t mine sharing this one with him.

The tot had been thrilled when the flame quirk user had similarly offered up his current bedroom so that he could be closer to him.

All three of them, of course, had nightmares _but_ , being the youngest, it was only natural that the six-year-old wanted to be closer to the only adult he trusted who hadn’t been taken from him.

_Shit._

He could hardly wait to see Kimiko again; they were going to make a memory book (they’d picked it out together online; it was accented with orchid illustrations, which she’d love) and, since she wouldn’t be able to have and keep such a thing (tch, what harm would it do? Stupid, bastard rules) they’d show it to her every time they visited.

The first few pages would, of course, be filled with tales from the decorating they were doing today, photographs of the cats and the iris haired boy’s little notes detailing their adventures, the good times he shared with his friends and anything else he wanted to tell her about.

God.

Poor kid.

Shutting off the water (his body effectively scrubbed, hair washed and teeth-cleaned; it was illogical to bother with the faucets when he was already using water, wasn’t it? Water that he’d need to shut off at 07:00 so Uraraka’s friend, Gin-san, could start on the plumbing work promptly), he snagged a towel and started to dry himself, his mind going over the next few weeks.

By the end of today, June 17th? The Cat Café area should be (mostly) put together; there’d be more than enough of them to cover the decorating, cleaning and final touches, surely…

Then, throughout the week, various delivery companies would be coming by with the cat-products that he’d ordered (and a few surprises that Inko, Mitsuki, Kaminari Ume and Kirishima Jun had picked out for him and paid for; it was incredibly sweet of them and they’d refused even a single yen for their efforts) alongside his regular ingredients’ orders.

He’d managed to bag a great subscription to a pet website for by-weekly cat-litter, food and treats (that were healthy, low-in fat and good for cleaning teeth) for the customers to lavish on their feline family members, too.

The same feline family members who Tomoko would diligently drive over in complimentary cat-carriers (the old manager had insisted; he just wanted the animals he loved so much to be taken care of and had promised to become a patron of the café: his food and drink would _always_ be on the house, of course) on the 24th.

He was _irrationally_ excited by the thought, a thought that could only be rivalled by his soon to be employee’s strong-arming tactics for the Neko Nakama Shelter, also, had great connections to a local vet.

At vet whom, in exchange for rescuing the animals, had offered a 10% discount on all insurance plans, vaccinations and emergency cover. However, after a _gentle_ nudge (and a deranged smile coupled with kind of wild, flailing arm gesticulations Present Mic would approve of) from the Pro Hero (who he’d be interviewing tomorrow), the clinic had bumped that up to 20%

Heh.

There was something to be said for getting a good bargain, wasn’t there?

However, and most importantly, this all meant that the Health and Safety Inspectors could come in, sign everything off and permit him to open the cat café proper before Sunday 31st.

The Sunday that Hitoshi and Denki would celebrate their seventh birthdays together.

Their seventh birthdays that would be his ward’s first without both of his parents.

 _Shit_.

They’d be able to meet with her on Sunday 7th July, though; Present Mic’s birthday (that all of the tots and teens had been similarly invited too; the heroes would be out of costumes _but_ would only use their first names: not that any of them planned on revealing their identities to anyone) would happen in the evening.

They’d all agreed that having a party to distract Hitoshi from his first prison visit was probably a good idea; if the excitement got too much for him, Izuku had whispered that the two of them could go upstairs and watch anime or something and Inko, ever the sweetheart, had promised that she’d keep an eye on him, as well.

God.

What would he do without these people now?

Heh.

It was funny, now that he reflected on it, his dark gaze regarding his appearance in the steamy bathroom’s mirror; he looked a little younger, a little more his age, a lot happier, less stern, _very nearly_ more relaxed than what he’d ever truly been before.

Who’d have thought that, on his mission to try and help or save other people, he’d end up being saved in return?

 _Heh_.

Well, for however long this lasted, anyway.

Small mercies.

~*~

“Rise and shine, sleepy-heads~!”

Surprising his teenage house-mate’s with a tray brimming with breakfast goodies (tamagoyaki with a little chilli-powder for Tomura, cold soba with a sliced, soft-boiled egg for Dabi; both dishes garnished and surrounded by miso, seasoned rice-bowls and their favourite pickles), Shouta placed it on the small coffee table they’d inherited before drawing the curtains.

“H-how… _how_ is he like this at the ass-crack of dawn?” the decay quirk user whined, his face burying into his partner’s chest with a huff.

“I’m calling it now” the older teen sighed; “he’s a robot, pure and simple” he muttered whilst sluggishly grabbing at a cushion to pull over his face with a groan.

“It’s fine by me if you guys don’t want to show off your skills at that arcade you’ve been trying to drag me to for days” he deadpanned; “I’m _sure_ whoever that ‘ _Spinner_ ’ kid is, he _deserves_ to have his name on the top-score boards of your favourite games” he baited further, a smile _very_ nearly crawling across his face.

Three, two, one…

“ _Spinner~!_ ”

“That prick~!”

Chuckling behind his hand as the boys were suddenly and enthusiastically energised, their forms sitting up in a jumble of limbs, he left them to their murderous mutterings (he’d have to keep an eye on that; joviality aside, he’d rather them focus on my positive things) and walked through into the second living space the wide-archway gave him access to.

Then, his hair tied up and out of the way, he began to roll out the dust-sheets in the two, white-painted bedrooms ready for the boys to put their own stamps on the later; Dabi had already cleared out his few things and placed them on the kotatsu-table Mimi-chan had bought for them.

Hmm.

It’d be nice for the four of them to crowd around it on the cold, winter nights that rolled around in October, a thick blanket sandwiched between the wooden-top and a little heater tucked underneath whilst the ate warming-soups, spicy dumplings and indulged in hot-chocolate.

Heh.

Since when had he ever longed for something so domestic for himself?

Since _when_ had he convinced himself that the teenagers would choose to stick around for that long?

Chuckling to himself, the dust-sheets effectively covering the tatami-mats, he then grabbed his roll of masking tape and began to quickly cover the skirting-board with it; sure, he didn’t particularly mind if the kids made a mess _but_ the clean, straight-lines gave a nice, professional _rational_ finish to a room.

Even if he _had_ heard Hitoshi considering Katsuki’s suggesting that he paint his room full of explosions (Denki had _helpfully_ added that lightning bolts were cool whilst Eijiro had veritably screamed “ _dragons, Toshi~! Dragons are so _heckin_ manly~!_”).

_Hmm…_

~*~

At 08:00 (the water having been shut off for an hour, the toilets drained) Uraraka-san (“ _Ryou, please, Shouta-kun… you’re like family to me and my best girls, you know_ ”) and Gin-san arrived in the sandy blonde’s faithful Kei-truck.

He’ greeted them, shown them where all of the power-outlets were, provided a table loaded with lemonade and a small, chilled box of onigiri to nibble on; that done, they assured him that they’d call if they needed or wanted anything and Shouta went about doing a few odd-jobs.

He rang up a few tax calculations on the smart-till, gathered the employment contract paper work he’d need for Tomoko and wondered, a little guiltily, if he shouldn’t have cancelled that tots’ self-defence class.

No.

Two missed sessions wouldn’t hurt anything and the adults had, actually, thanked him for postponing it; the June heat kept building, didn’t it?

From now on, he’d have the café open for them to nip into for a cool-down, too.

Perhaps, since the classes had become so popular, he should approach the little, yoga-studio a few blocks away to see if he could hire a Sunday slot for them to use?

Hmm…

* **Ding-ding** *

“Mornin’ Shou-nii~!”

Looking up from the Service Bar, his smile soft, the eatery owner looked down at the six-year-olds (both soon to be seven; God, where was the time going?) as they scuttled up to him, their grins pleasantly excited.

“Did you have a fun sleep-over?” he asked; “and would you like anything to eat or drink?”

“We had _such_ a good time~!” his ward stated whilst Izuku nodded enthusiastically; “but not as good as our camp outs~!” he furthered, his little hand grabbing his friends: “could… could we please have a sleep over here, you know, when alla the work is done?”

“So long as it’s okay with Inko-san and not on a school-night, of course you can” he chuckled (damn… they were _irrationally_ cute) the pair cheering, their joined hands punching the air as though they were celebrating a hard-won victory.

Tch, it was _just_ a sleepover; however, as he waved them into a booth (the study-area and gaming-station were off-limits and covered in dust sheets as soon, _very_ soon, the two men would start busting through the café-customer toilet blocks to create the same archway Uraraka— _Ryou_ had made for him upstairs) he blinked.

Thinking back to the tots he’d met when he first arrived here (Izuku; devastated, quirkless, _friendless_ , his mother eating her heart out in despair for his wellbeing… Hitoshi; quiet, dark-eyed, lonely and frightened, his world closed off and smothered in worry) there was no _just_ about it, was there?

Hell.

This could very well be their first, official sleep-over in a place that neither of them had grown up in, couldn’t it?

Damn; that was a pretty big deal, right?

Well, he thought it was; when he was in elementary and middle school, he remembered people his age talking about such things excitedly: as an orphan who didn’t have his own room, his own futon often crowded by the other boys, he… he’d not seen what the fuss was all about.

 _He_ had never been invited to one, he had never _had_ any friends (his little brothers were family, so they didn’t count, and they’d needed him… he’d been useful, that’d been important) or anyone who just wanted to spend-time with him. 

Tch, _being_ wanted by someone, by anyone, just for his _sparkling_ personality was an irrational idea; he knew, fundamentally, that his parents had liked him and enjoyed his company but he couldn’t recall anyone else ever saying so.

No…

No, outside of what he could provide (food, tutelage, safety, security), no one had ever wanted him around and, even though that didn’t seem to be the case here, now that he was older and surrounded by these people (all so amazing strong in their own right) he wouldn’t take it personally when they got tired of him, the café, grew up and left.

He knew that was inevitable, he’d accepted it, it didn’t bother him and it didn’t matter because his goal was to help as many people as he could, anyway _but_ he did worry, from time to time, that his social ineptitude could possibly hurt the younger people he’d inadvertently gathered around him.

His lack of experience when it came to what “normal” people wanted or needed to be happy was making him feel a little… 

Unsure?

Hmm.

He’d have to ask Inko or Mistuki later, wouldn’t he?

~*~

08:30 had seen him and the boys venture out into the temperate-heat; Tomura’s pale-green hoody (the hood-up, _of course_ ) and sunglasses had made Izuku gush and Hitoshi, similarly star-struck, had wondered when he’d be tall enough to wear the style of summer coat which floated about Dabi in some kind of majestic allure.

Heh, it was a shame that they didn’t make such things for soon-to-be seven years old’s; speaking of which, that was the special mission he’d tasked the teens with (their birthday’s having, sadly, come and gone already; there was always next year, if they decided to stay with him that long, wasn’t there?).

 _What_ should he get the tots for their birthdays?

Kaminari Koji had tried to laugh him off until he’d told him, bluntly, that Denki was having a gift regardless; he just wanted to know what’d be best.

Because children deserved nice things.

Because children should _have_ nice things, especially on special occasions.

Watching as the man had turned slightly blue across his forehead, he’d been assured that the other would be back in touch _soon_ with an idea for him.

Heh.

 _Good_.

Similarly, Inko had tried to dissuade him; he’d not meant to make her cry (he’d felt awful, afterwards but, he reflected, it didn’t take much to set her off… she had such a big heart) and had bowed at her and apologised (creating (somehow) more tears) until she’d calmed down and relented.

An All Might stationery set (complete with two new notebooks for quirk analysis) were on his shopping list whilst the tots and teens enjoyed the large arcade they were heading to.

But Hitoshi, so quiet, never one to ever ask for anything, well?

He needed help, there.

He was sure that, between them, the older boys could coax an idea or two out of him; it’d been strange, on reflection, how the favour he’d asked had played out, though.

There they’d been, the boys’ breakfast eaten as he came to take the dishes away, the task on his lips when Dabi had locked eyes with him.

“ _When’s your birthday?_ ” he’d asked.

“ _Umm… sometime in November, the 8th, I think_ ” he’d replied, his mind so preoccupied with whether or not he’d done all of the preparation work for the two workmen that he’d _nearly_ dumped into his turquoise-eyed lodger who’d _somehow_ manifested in front of him.

“ _What d’you mean… you think?_ ” the other had challenged, his expression strangely serious.

“ _Hmm? Oh, well… I can’t remember the last time I did anything special, you know, on the day_ ” he replied with a light shrug; “ _now come on, you’ll have to be quick if either of you want a shower before I have to shut the water off_ ” and, since then, he’d not thought anything of it.

However, as they made their way down into the nearest subway station, Hitoshi and Izuku dancing about and shouting to make _echoes_ in the tiled-tunnel, he’d noticed that the teens kept sneaking glances at him and each other.

Hmm…

He hoped he hadn’t somehow offended or upset them?

He’d have to talk to them a little later, now, wouldn’t he?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ppssttt~!
> 
> *Stage-whispers*
> 
> I think Dabi is gonna have to initiate a "cat-dad-you-are-loved-and-valued-as-a-person" intervention...
> 
> And I believe that MANY people will want in on it...
> 
> XD


	35. Intervention: Part 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Warnings include: Shouta WILL drink the tea... this is JUST round one, kids say the darndest things, angst, confusion, worry, swearing and...**
> 
> **FFFFFEEEEEEEEEEEEEEELLLLLLLSSSSSS~!!**
> 
> *Sucks in a breath*
> 
> Okay, there MIGHT be a double update tonight but, if not? There will be a double, maybe a triple, tomorrow because this right here? It POURED out of me~!
> 
> Umm...
> 
> Tissues?
> 
> ;_;

The arcade that had the tots gushing and the teens cracking their knuckles ominously (heh; whomever _Spinner_ was, he wondered if he, she or they would be just as competitive once Dabi and Tomura had reset the leader-boards… whatever that meant) was a multicoloured, loud, busy _nightmare_ …

“Shou-nii~ Shou-nii~ can we go on that racing car game please~”

However, for a few hours, he was supposed that he could suffer it; there were lots of families and people his age roaming around to, their faces filled with delight as they tried their hands at crane-games for prizes, dancing-simulators, shoot ‘em ups and slogged it out on fighting-games.

Again, he wasn’t really sure what all the fuss was about (how did they not all have migraines?) but, if such things put a delighted smile on the six-year-olds’ faces, well?

What was a little tinnitus and befuddlement?

“Hmm? You mean the one that has actual peddles, wheels and gear-sticks? Sure, that could be educational… do you guys know how they work?”

For the first hour, he’d be overseeing the younger children and then, sneakily, the teens would oversee them whilst he went away to ‘ _shop for essentials_ ’.

“Hee-hee~! Kind’of~!”

“You get points for crashing into things, anyway~!”

Sure, it wasn’t original or particularly clever _but_ the older children had promised to find out what Hitoshi would like for his birthday (outside of the party, his favourite kind of cake and his mother… who couldn’t be there, _shit_ ) and would text him asap.

Heh, such good kids.

“Okay” he grinned at the youngsters attached to his hands whilst they tugged him along, his sneakers padding across the colour-changing floor covered in all kinds of gaming avatars, stars and gaming logos; “just don’t expect _me_ to have a go, alright?”

~*~

Between them, it’d probably taken twenty minutes to _obliterate_ Spinner’s reign across their favourite arcade RPG (they’d cleared the first 10 levels with _all_ of the gems and five of the hidden-bonuses; heh! Whoever the smarmy pricks, he wouldn’t be able to beat that as a single-player) and now, level 11 virtually completed, Tomura couldn’t take it anymore.

“I can hear you thinking” he stated bluntly, his gloved fingers (God… it felt _so_ good to just hold a controller properly; his skin was feeling pretty damned good, too… he’d have to ask Shou for more of his miracle cream soon) striking with rapid, ruthless efficiently across the buttons. “So, what do you want to do?”

“Slapping and shaking him isn’t going to work, is it?” Dabi sighed, his turquoise eyes scanning over the screen as their avatars smashed, slew and vanquished the zombie-horde trying to overrun the screen; “heh… so much for my biological father’s A+ parenting ideas” he huffed. “Tch, and Shou makes it look _so_ easy” he grumped; “did you know that Bakugo and Izu used to be in a really, shitty place, you know… friendship wise?” he asked, his game-character scoring treble-points with a one-bullet, double-kill.

“What?” his partner quipped; “sure, the Baku-brat can be annoying sometimes but I’ve seen them practising their kicks together and help Eji and Denki with their homework together… hell, they shared the last muffin the other day, didn’t they?”

“Yeah, well… this is how they are now” the flame quirk user allowed, his avatar swiping up a flame-thrower that one of the undead had dropped (heh; that was more like it); “when I first met them, Izu was sad, quiet and even more tearful than Inko-san” he mused. “And Bakugo? Forget it… he was a little rage-aholic, hell, I wanted to punt him out of the café and, if I’d ever met him on the street, I probably would’ve knocked him on his ass for good measure” he admitted, his tone a little guilty. “Shou just… _talked_ them through their problems… he could see that the little snot was upset and struggling with the fact that Izu was quirkless and, well? In this shitty world where hero-worship’s everywhere, a quirkless kid doesn’t get any opportunities, right?”

“Heh… forget about him being a robot, maybe cat-dad is a benevolent spirit, or something?” the grey-haired teen chuckled; “I know that I’ve never met anyone like him before.”

“Same” the taller acknowledged with a hum, his brows furrowing; “so… how the fuck do we make him realise that?” he pushed: “I mean… he just shrugs off everything… he doesn’t even celebrate his own birthday _but_ he’s going out of his way for the kids, hell, for us” he muttered. “He took me in when I had less than nothing… he’s given me everything and doesn’t want anything back for it” he sighed; “and as nice as that is… I just… it doesn’t seem right, you know?” he huffed.

“I agree with you” Tomura nodded, his nimble digits flying across the control panel, his mouth chewing a piece of gum and blowing a perfect, pink-bubble every so often; “and… as much as I hate to admit it, I _think_ we’re going to have to take the _nuclear_ option” he advised.

“No” Dabi growled, his eyes narrowing; “there has to be another way…”

“Look, I don’t want to approach them about it, either” he acknowledged, his avatar leaping onto a roof-top to spray the grabbing, rotting zombies with a hail-storm of bullets from a machine-gun he’d found in a crate; “ _but_ , even though they don’t act it… they _are_ the same age” he shrugged. “And… from what little I’ve heard him say about himself and what you’ve told me outside of the times the three of us have been together… he doesn’t really have anyone, you know, other than us and the _little-brothers_ he’s shown us photos of, right?” he mused. 

“Yeah, well…”

“ _And_ he’s a great guy… hell, the café family he’s made out of us, ‘cus that’s what we are, is a better family than the one I had in, you know, a lot of ways but… even though _we_ can try and be there for him, try to talk to him and make him feel appreciated” he tacked on before he stopped himself. “It’d probably be good for him to have someone he doesn’t see as family to talk to about… stuff, right?”

“Ugh… but those Pros are _so_ …”

“Yeah, I know” he sniggered, his partner’s rolling eyes making him laugh despite himself; “however, it’s them or _All Might_ and, on top of us _really_ not wanting to be _anywhere_ near the, tch, _Symbol of Peace_ ” he close to sneered. “Even _if_ he’s not the smarmy-bastard he seems to be… he’s got shit to do all of the time and… I... I _don’t_ want our cat-dad getting too mixed up with him and all of the… _attention_ he gets; hell, Shou wouldn’t like that, either, would he?”

Muttering curses under his breath, the level _finally_ cleared, the dark-haired teen typed in his preferred screen name (HellFire) whilst the slenderer sixteen-year-old added his own “DeathTouch” moniker; heh, it was a shame that you couldn’t add cuss-words to these things because this was a public space.

“I’llBurn_u_Bitch” would always be his favourite.

“I guess, but… he’s a private guy, you know? And he’s always considerate about not pushing people to say and do things” he reasoned; “and those three are just so… _obnoxious_ ” he grumbled: “I mean… they’re okay as Pros go and yeah, I don’t mind them in small, _really_ small doses, but…”

“If you were Shou” his partner cut in, level 12’s loading screen a flurry of skulls, bones and massive-beasts whilst they waited; “and _you_ were trying to help someone who didn’t appreciate themselves, what would you do?”

“Ugh, _fine_ ” the flame quirk user grumped, his head shaking; “but if any of them so much as _think_ about wanting to date him then you and me are gonna have to give them a shovel talk, alright?”

“Ooh? With _actual_ shovels?” Tomura smirked, his eyes glinting mischievously; “count me in…”

~*~ 

Returning to the café, his few bags easily camouflaging Hitoshi’s birthday presents (the boy had a fondness for retro-board games (something he’d inherited from his father) and, after playing Uno, had become hungry for more; the sale’s clerk had been very helpful and shown him a range of different things they could enjoy) Shouta felt…

“Umm~ getting popsicles was a real good idea, Shou-nii~!”

 _Accomplished_.

He’d had a text from Ryou (the new toilets and sinks had been installed, the archway had been made (he was still smoothing out the walls) and the water was back on; the faucets and cisterns were all in proper, working ordering and the tiling had begun) and, oddly, the three local Pros.

Loud Cloud had sent him a picture of himself holding paint-cans (o-kay… he’d not asked them to buy any _but_ it’d be good to have some extra cans, just in case), Present Mic had a range of brushes _artfully_ shoved into his irrational hairstyle (hmm, he hoped they weren’t covered in gel) and Midnight’s had featured her posed with Ragdoll.

Written across the (admittedly cute; it looked as though they’d had a good patrol last night) image was “ _we wuv her~! We’re now an awesome-foursome but… there’s always room for one more~!_ 😉”

Heh.

Some how he didn’t think Mr Compress would be a good candidate for that slot; however, if he came across any other people that’d make a good match, then he’d be sure to let them know.

“Maa~ Shou-nii? Can I ask you a question?”

Blinking out of his thoughts, the five of them walking up a quieter, tree-shaded street (the teens were leading the way as they quietly talked to each other, their phones in hand) the café owner looked down to tots diligently trotting beside him.

“Of course” he replied, his dark eyes checking around the tall, grey office blocks, the occasional bill-board (mostly covered in All Might selling something; tch, All Might dental-floss? _Really_?) catching his attention alongside the odd car skirting passed.

Heh, what an illogical expense; _why_ would anyone spend that kind of money learning how to drive, paying for a vehicle _and_ insurance when the subways, buses and trains of their country were so efficient?

 _Irrational…_

“How come you’re so amazing?”

Cocking his head, his feet having to stop because the teens had baulked, similarly, at the question and rooted themselves to the spot a step or two before him.

“Eh?”

Watching as Hitoshi rolled his eyes and Izuku gave him the pre-teared look that would melt even the iciest of hearts, Shouta found himself crouching down to their level as the iris haired child sighed and regarded his friend; “see? I told you that they were right and he didn’t know…”

“ _Umm_ …”

“But… _but_ ~!” the emerald accented tot tried, his little, popsicle holding hand flailing; “that… _that’s_ illogical~!” the boy insisted, his pout morphing into a determined, serious (a-dorable) frown.

Heh, using his own words against him, huh?

Bright kid.

“I… where did this come from?” he asked them, his head tilting further, his gaze (for _some_ reason) slowly tilting up the _incredibly_ interested looking teenagers; “I’m just a person” he grinned: “a little kindness and cooking nice food is hardly anything _amazing_ , right? I… oh… whoa, _whoa_ Izu… don’t cry” he tried to chuckle.

It was the shock more than anything else.

“Y-you… you’re not… not _just_ … kind and a… a good cook… _S-Shou-nii~!_ ”

“Easy… take a breath” he soothed; “I’m sorry… I didn’t mean to upset you…”

“ _You_ didn’t upset him, you oblivious dope” Dabi cut in, his body moving to crouch behind the child rubbing at his eyes whilst Tomura knelt next to a quivering-lipped Hitoshi.

All of them were looking to him and now, unfortunately, he felt at a loss.

He didn’t know what he’d done wrong.

He wasn’t sure _how_ to…

“Heh, you know? We were gonna try this late _but_ , now is as good a time as any” his lodger huffed before picking up the boy and looking around, his eyes narrowing on a bench across the street big enough for them to sit on, its metal-frame shaded by two scraggly yet leafy-trees; “come on” he stated.

Feeling his brows reach for his hairline, Shouta nodded and followed the young man’s lead with the other pair following, across the quiet road, behind him.

“Okay, cat-dad… _this_ is an intervention” the burn-scarred boy began as they sat, his form sandwiched in the middle with the six-year-olds sat beside him and the teens on the end.

“Intervention?” he baulked; “I don’t drink or…”

“Not that kind of intervention” Tomura snorted, his face deadpanned; “ _obviously_.”

“Then I… I don’t understand” he admitted, the smallest children leaning into him regardless of the heat; “what _do_ you mean? I just own a café and being with you guys is _my_ privilege for however long you want me around” he reminded. “I…”

“Ugh… it… it’s _that_ ” the (clearly exasperated, verging on flustered) teenager tried, his right-hand gesturing at, well, all of him; “look Shou… it’s about time _someone_ told you the truth, man…”

“That I’m sullen, strange and emotionally obtuse?” he ventured mildly, a wry grin plucking his lips; “ _now_ whose being oblivious?” he chuckled because, well, duh? “And, if by _amazing_ you mean that I’m working too hard I… I don’t _mean_ to be always rushing around… but I like hard work and sometimes… heh, I’m sorry if I get a little… caught up in it? I don’t mean to worry or upset you by doing that and I’ll try to be more understanding if…”

“ _Oh my fucking God_ ” he heard the decay quirk user mutter whilst Izuku (who’d _just_ about started to settle) began to look heartbroken again.

Shit…

 _Shit_!

What the hell was going…

“Shou-nii?” 

Turning his attention to Hitoshi (whilst Dabi looked as though he was _just_ managing to contain a rant… or a conniption) who was regarding him with a look _far_ too intense for a boy of his years; “ _you_ are not an ordinary person” he stated, his little hands balling into fists. 

_Eh?_

“And… and to hear you not… not _realise_ that you’re… you’re so much more than that is… it’s _really_ wrong” he told him flatly before pointing to Izuku; “ _he_ has _never_ had a dad” he continued: “not until you came along and showed him what that was like…”

But…

But he _hadn’t_ …

“ _You_ are not related to _any_ of us… there was no, _logical_ reason for you to give me and Dabi-nii a home… there was _no_ logical reason for you get Izu and Kaachan talkin’ again, or teach Eiji and Denki when their school-teachers had given up _or_ help Tsu-chan like an’ accept herself” he furthered hotly. 

There was a reason, though…

He’d been able to help, he _wanted_ to help, he’d taken College courses to…

“OR feed Ocha-chan and her family for free cus’ they’re hungry or make Tomu-nii feel better about his quirk and… and be a parent to _all_ of us when you’re _not_ that much older than they are~” he continued, his hand gesturing at the nodding teens.

“I…”

“You did _alla_ that cus you’re amazing~!” he carried on; “and _we_ all _**love you**_ ” he pushed, that tear-streamed face shoving into his side, an action that was mimicked by his young friend who was nodding into his t-shirt vigorously.

“Toshi…”

“It’s wrong that you don’t love yourself as much as we love you, Shou-nii~” came another, muffled argument before, with a sniff, the purple-haired tot pulled away and looked up at him, his red-rimmed eyes filled with conviction; “so I’m gonna keep telling you how amazing you are until… until you see it…”

“M-me too~!” the freckled tot nodded.

“And us” the teens solidified, their hands reaching for his shoulders and squeezing them; “tch… so stop being so dense and taking yourself for granted… you crazy, selfless, _moron_ of a not so old guy…”

~*~

Arriving back in Japan, his private valet bowing at him whilst he walked down the steps of his small, business-jet, Shigaraki cast a careful eye around the mostly quiet air-strip whilst approaching his preferred, deep-maroon Bentley Mulsanne, the smartly dressed chauffer opening the passenger door for him as he slipped inside.

Ahh, it felt _good_ to be home.

Sinking into the plush, sumptuous, cream leather interior with a pleased sigh, he took the flute of champagne that awaited him in the broad-warmest before tapping onto the touch-screen that protruded from a hard-light projector which shimmered down from the car’s ceiling.

As the engine purred to life, the wheels easily pulling them towards the exit, the crime-lord tapped Kurogiri’s icon and smiled when the call was picked up within seconds.

“Sensei” the first Nomu of his kind (an ingenious amalgamation of a clone crafted from a wayward, slightly deranged dolt he’d _taken in_ to _look after_ and several, blood-based quirks Garaki had managed to sample from his _legitimate_ profession as a doctor) answered primly with a bow; “welcome home, sir.”

“Thank you” he crooned out, his flute-free hand reaching for a cigar in his breast-pocket, one of the _many_ powers he’d _acquired_ effortlessly igniting it after he’d slid it between his perfect-white, marbled teeth; “how is my boy doing, hmm?”

“He is progressing, at speed, through his courses and his tutors have reported an increase in efficiency and overall academic proficiency” the elegantly dressed, shadow encrusted male returned in kind, the screen he was observing flashing up with the reports that the teachers he’d employed had sent through alongside Tomura’s assessment scores.

“Excellent” he mused, a puff of thick, creamy smoke floating from his widely grinning maw, his pale, insipid eyes alight with pleasure; “and you’re certain it’s this… _Dabi_ , Aizawa Shouta and their little establishment which have caused such a _positive_ change in our dear recluse?”

“Most certainly, sir” the other assured; “I believe that he has become more… efficient in his studies so that he may return to the _Noraneko Café_ for the greater part of the day and evening” he continued before, the poisonous lemon of his eyes narrowed a touch: “he has stayed there, overnight, on a few occasions.”

Humming, a swallow of champagne sliding down his throat, Shigaraki let out a chuckle; “my my” he said: “well, I see no harm in allowing him to enjoy himself… young men _should_ , shouldn’t they?” he mused before he checked his schedule. “Continue to observe him from a distance” he advised; “and… oh, let’s say mid-July? I think I’ll go there myself, for a visit” he nodded: “yes… we must get Gigantomachia settled in first and then there’s that haughty, _Yakuza_ brat to deal with” he hummed.

“Set a date for me, would you?” he added conversationally after another puff of acrid, sickly-sweet vapour rolled up and out of him; “let’s say somewhere around the 15th?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahh~!
> 
> From the mouths of babes, eh?
> 
> *Looks back at the chapter ending*
> 
> *Looks at you*
> 
> Ahh... ha... I... I can explain... everything's gonna be fine~! I...
> 
> *Throws herself behind couch*
> 
> I warned y'all that he was coming~!
> 
> Tee-hee~!
> 
> Now, for _just_ a bit of FYI... as all of you have figured out by now, AFO and Yagi haven't had their Earth-shattering fight at this stage and so, AFO (Sensei/Shigaraki-sama) just looks like a tall, handsome older man...
> 
> No Darth-Vader mask, no floating life-support equipment and IV's... just a regular, older guy who you wouldn't look twice at in a crowd...
> 
> For me? THAT'S how he was able to operate so successfully for so long considering that he's been at the top of the Most Wanted list since Shimura Nana's day...
> 
> So, what do I have in store, here?
> 
> How/when will the fight go down?
> 
> Well...
> 
> You're just gonna have to wait and see~!
> 
> *Hits the floor to avoid projectiles*
> 
> Also... yes, _two_ more interesting people have been name dropped here...
> 
> Poor Twice... I'm coming for you, boy~!
> 
> Not you, Kai... _you_ I have plans for... plans that'll occur MUCH later~!
> 
> Can anyone else say...
> 
> MAJOR PLOT POINT FOUR~!?
> 
> XD
> 
> Fufufufufufufuuuuu~!


	36. Becoming aware…

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Warnings include: tears (happy ones, I swear), swearing, reflections on school-troubles, reflections on hero society and...**
> 
> **FFFFFFFFEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEELLLLLLLLLLLSSSSSSS~!!**

To say that he’d been _stunned_ would be an overwhelming understatement; however, as they’d sat there, the tots curled (still sniffling) into his sides, Shouta had pulled them closer (regardless of the heat), his mind running a mile a minute.

“B-boys” he heard himself breathe; “I…” he tried, his voice a little choked: “ _thank you_ ” he managed, his gaze flitting from them to Dabi and Tomura in turn. “You… this is” he floundered, his mouth trying to form how he felt into words.

And then, a cheeky smile trying to pull his lips whilst he blinked back tears; “heh, but… _you don’t even know me_ ” he partially laughed out, the incredulous look on the older boys’ faces causing him to (albeit shakily) laugh a little louder.

“He’s using our own excuse against us” the decay quirk user muttered darkly, those crimson eyes shining with feeling; “you’ll have to be punished, for that” he warned.

“I agree” Dabi stated, his own, misted gaze narrowed; “no self-deprecating for you for a month, young man, or there’ll be trouble” he said, his grin fierce as they all began to chuckle together, the five of them soon laughing like idiots on the bench in some random, quiet street ten minutes away from the café, their arms and hands grabbing for and holding each other.

Heh.

“We’ll be watching to make sure you’re on your best behaviour too, Shou-nii~!”

As Sunday afternoons went?

“P-Plus Ultra-style~!”

This was a pretty, damned good one…

~*~

After they returned to his eatery, the five of them had _marvelled_ at the work that Gin-san (caramel-skinned, in his early fifties, fit as an ox and just as strong; his light-weight boiler suit, just like Uraraka’s, spattered in plaster, grout and ceramic dust) and Ryou had done.

“Damn” Tomura murmured in awe and hell, there really wasn’t a better word for it.

“Maa~! So, Shouta-kun, boys, will it do?”

Standing before the wide archway that _used_ to be the customer toilets, his smile widening at the desk-bar bolted onto the part of the wall that’d remained (where four electrical-points for the computers he hoped to buy one day and three sets of shelves for learning resources and careers-pamphlets would be held had been added).

He couldn’t stop nodding his approval.

Then, walking past the still dust-sheet covered, repurposed study-table (there was now room for another, smaller table across from it that the middle-schoolers might want to use), they stepped through the smooth, freshly plastered (thanks to the heat and all of the windows being open, the grey, smooth surface was dry and ready for painting) entryway with gasps.

“Ryou-san” he breathed.

For there, _just_ as he’d envisioned it, was the carefully and precisely mounted glass-wall which featured a wide, sliding door for humans to walk in and out off; inside the space, the HEPA extracting unit could be seen on the wall in a wooden, protective-housing alongside two (cleaned and re-plastered) bay windows and a white-glazed door leading to one of the two bathrooms.

Then, where they were stood, his café’s fourth booth had been added under the other bay-window and there was definitely enough floor space for two more tables and chairs; the “cat-access” desk (that Tomoko would man) had also been constructed outside of the door that led to the cat-crate room.

The other bathroom (the one that’d be used by people who didn’t enter the long, wide, currently empty cat-enclosure) was positioned just to the side of that room where their new feline family members would sleep, a room that two cat-flaps had been installed in the bottom of its sturdy-brick wall inside the enclosure.

The cat-flaps which would allow the felines to access their litter trays, food-bowls and water dishes.

It was…

“Perfect” he murmured, still a little awe-struck.

Because _that’s_ exactly what it was; already he could see the cats within the spacious home he’d made for them: he could see where the tree-towers would go, knew where the soft, scratch-resistant, wipe-down chairs, cube-stools and beanbags would go and, in his mind’s eye, the back wall was already covered in various sizes, lengths and heights of shelves.

They would give the cats plenty of exercise and a high-place for the felines to escape to if they didn’t want human company (or, in the case of the older cats, a place away from the tumbling, exuberant kittens and their antics).

God.

He could hardly wait to get them settled…

“Well then, Shouta-kun… let’s give you and your boys the grand tour, neh?”

~*~

At 13:00, he’d made them all some lunch (Gin-san had kindly checked all of the other plumbing in the café and the conjoined apartment upstairs, too; the dear man had tightened a few fixtures, improved the water-pressure in the showers and laughed _boisterously_ when Dabi had asked him what _he_ thought of singing toilets) before changing outfits.

Dressed up in their oldest clothes, Inko having jogged over to join them, paint-brush in hand, he’d sent her upstairs to where the boys were getting started and made his way back, his hands carrying two industrial sized tubs of paint, to the revamped space.

He’d then puttered about with masking tape whilst the men finished laying the same, glittery-red linoleum across the rest of the floor before adding the seemingly random (but carefully calculated by himself and Ochaco’s similarly mathematically-minded father) shelves on the back wall and, since they’d had a few planks spare, across the side walls, too.

Then Ryou and Gin-san, their labours completed, had been sent on their way home (with cake and Nedzu’s number and email; the white-furred man had contacted him on Saturday and said that he was _definitely_ interested in skilled builders: apparently the High School he worked in (which he didn’t name) built… _a lot_ ) at 15:00.

He’d insisted (not on tipping because, like him, the older men didn’t believe in such things) that the contract they’d made had needed to been reviewed and added 1,200,000yen to what he’d already given them; he’d told them that the job they’d done was worth more, however…

“ _Tch, Uraraka… you’ll have to tell him no because he looks too much like my boy for me to do it~!_ ” the older had grumbled; “ _if we’re having anything extra, Aizawa-kun, then I’d rather you keep your yen and let me and my kin eat for free when we visit every other month… that sound fair?_ ”

He’d been flabbergasted but, at Ryou’s endearing look he’d sighed, nodded and relented with: “ _as far as I’m concerned, anything you ever want from me is on the house_.”

God.

He’d felt like he was _robbing_ them. 

“ _We’ve had a great time, honestly_ ” Ochaco’s father had breathed paternally, a strong hand gripping his shoulder; “ _it’s not wrong to let other people care for you in return for all of the care you give them, you know?_ ”

~*~

At 15:30 and bang on time, for a change, the three Pros similarly dressed in baggy t-shirts, shorts and flip-flops arrived with paint, brushes and some (admittedly adorable) cat-based stencils, their grins excited as they entered and _smothered_ him in a group hug.

Heh; was it any wonder that Tomoko had gotten on so well with them?

Dabi and Tomura, who’d come downstairs to grab more lemonade, had taken one look at the four of them, laugh snorted and taken photos with their phones, the younger teen saying; “ _this is premium blackmail material, right here_ ” before leaving.

Heh.

_Hilarious…_

“D’you guys want anything to eat before we get started?” he asked whist walking them through to the now dust-sheet covered area; “a certain… idol of yours is probably coming by at four, so you’re better off eating now…”

“ _What~?!_ ”

“ _No f-in-way~!_ ”

“ _You’ve **arranged** for **All Might** to come by and **paint** ~?!_” Midnight squealed, her hands cupping her flushing cheeks desperately; “oh please… _please_ tell me he’s gonna be in cute, _tight_ dungarees and shirtless~!” she cried, her body all a quiver.

Sharing a look with Mic and Cloud (the jade eyed man on the verge of losing his composure, those gloveless hands _struggling_ to hold his laughter inside his sputtering mouth), Shouta rolled his eyes, shook his head and led them to the area they’d be tackling.

Between them, he figured, the initial base-coating should take around an hour which would mean that a second coat and any finer detailing (he kept eyeing the stencils despite himself; _why_ hadn’t he thought about making or using such things?) would take another hour, perhaps a little longer, to do.

This would also mean, if All Might and Sir Nighteye weren’t called away on _actual_ business, then they’d still be able to help.

He needed to keep his eye on the hulking blonde whilst he was here, though; if the Labrador-stomached man was left to his own devices _anywhere_ near his kitchen then, well?

He knew that all of his pre-made wares for tomorrow would be demolished, wouldn’t they?

“Maa, so Shou-chan… what colour are starting with?”

Smiling, his form approaching one of the café tables he’d thrown a sheet over, he grabbed and started passing out rollers, paint-trays and the _magnolia_ matte he’d gotten in a sale; “this will give us a good base to work on” he advised. “Then, when it’s dry enough, we’re going to have the same mustard-yellow and dark-cheery that’s in the original eatery area” he said before, his grin tilting; “however, inside the cat-enclosure, I’ve got us some special, scratch resistant, wipe-down paint” he told them. “When that’s dry… since you’ve been such a big help and so invested… I though it’d be nice for you guys to put you own little touches in there with whatever colours you like” he offered with a mild shrug.

“I’m going to let Mimi-chan, her friends, the study group and the older boys do it too, so… _oooofffff~!_ ”

“Wah~! Shou-chan~! You’re too pure for this world~!”

“I… I’m gonna so such… such a good job, I swear~!”

“Ugh~! How can you be sweeter than those amazing cakes you bake~!?”

Huffing, Dabi and Tomura’s warnings from earlier settling over him, instead of pulling away instantly (so… _illogical_ ) he’d allowed them to embrace him with a chuckle; “you guys” he chuckled, his tone actually fond. “Now come on, let’s get started” he ordered, the three of them ( _comically_ ) snapping off salutes; “the sooner we get this space ready, the sooner we get this cat café up and running…”

~*~

Considering he’d been worried that the Pros would get up to some kind of mischief, Shouta had to admit that he _may_ have jumped the gun a little…

“Hey~ look at me~”

 _Until_ …

“Pppffftttt~!”

Sighing (because, _of course_ ), the café owner shook his head ruefully (although he couldn’t help his smile) as Present Mic (who’d been tackling the archway) turned around with cat-whiskers painted on his cheeks, his smile devious as the play-list he’d made for them started to sing out that strange, cat-noise song Inko had made him listen to once.

“Who are you supposed to be now, Present _Nyan_?” Midnight chortled from where she was kneeling on the floor, steadily and diligently doing the delicate bordering work.

“No, I’m _Neko Mic_ , the purr-hero~!” he snickered, all four of them laughing; “and _speaking_ of heroes” he furthered, their painting having resumed (Loud Cloud was, of course, taking care of the tallest parts of the walls, that sun-kissed body spread out on a small nimbus whilst he was filling in the bigger, middle spaces). “Why’d you never go in for it Shou-chan… ah~! If that’s not too personal a question?” he asked, his lean form leaning down to replenish the paint of his roller.

“Heh, I’m not cut out for such a thing” he shrugged mildly, his body stepping away from block of white he’d just made to check that he’d not missed any patches; “and besides, there’s enough of you guys to go around, isn’t there?”

“Ha-haa~! Yeah, I guess that’s true enough” the blonde giggled before, the topic _clearly_ not dropped; “it’s just, well? With a quirk like yours, your intelligence and, heh, _your skill-set_ (“and killer bod~!” Midnight chirped) you could crack the top ten _so_ easily~!” he praised whilst looking over his shoulder, his brows waggling.

“Hmm, well… that just adds to what I’ve already said” the raven-haired man mused; “popularity, opinion-polls, ratings and… _media-circuses_ ” he said with a shudder: “I don’t know how any of you cope with all of that… _mess_ ” he chuckled. “I mean… what’s the appeal?” he pushed, genuinely curious; “when you reach that level you don’t get to live as you want… you have to live how your _management_ tells you, right?” he furthered, his brows furrowed. “For me… I couldn’t live under such scrutiny and, if it’s not too personal for _me_ to say? That kind of life-style makes me worry for you guys, All Might and Sir Nighteye” he admitted, his roller returning to the wall.

“I mean… don’t get me wrong… when people with dangerous quirks decide that to play God, take what they want and don’t give a damn about anyone they hurt in the process, the Pro Hero Organisation is a line of defence that we’re all grateful for” he offered. “But… you’re all human, too… you should all be able to have lives outside of the good-work you do” he argued before stepping away from the wall again with a critical eye; “to sacrifice everything for the safety of others is, in itself, a noble ambition _if_ a little… much” he furthered. “ _But_ to sacrifice everything for the chance to have an action-figure, a fan-club and a movie deal? Well… to me? That’s what worried me about the whole… _hero_ thing” he said.

“People like you guys, Sir Nighteye and All Might… if I’d met you when I was younger, maybe I would feel differently about such things” he hummed; “you’re all so… warm and genuine in what you want to do… I believe that all of you are heroes in the true sense… that you put your lives on the line for others selflessly and wholly” he stated. 

Hmm, the magnolia was drying just as he’d hoped; that premium plaster-mix Gin-san had whipped up was fantastic: there were no oily-patches, or areas where the magnolia was seeping in or sliding off at all.

 _Fantastic_.

“Heh… it doesn’t stop me worrying for you, though” he heard himself say (well, his mouth and mind were prone to run when he was working); “maybe… _maybe_ when you guys have gotten a little more experience, it’d be worth you turning your hands to teaching?” he murmured. “That way you could save people twice over by inspiring the next generation” he continued, his mind conjuring up images of the three Pros doing such a thing, his smile broadening a touch; “ha, that might be a little selfish of me, though” he snickered. “I’d mainly want you doing such a thing to help and support my study-group, you…”

Closing his mouth, a weird feeling tripping up his spine, Shouta looked over his shoulder to see that the Pros had congregated around him… closely.

“ _Umm_ …”

Were they… _tearing-up_?

“Are you guys… alright?” he asked, his brows rising a fraction; “are the fumes…”

“How _do you_ do _that_?” Loud Cloud asked; “that was so… _inspiring_ ~!”

“You… you really think that much of us?” Midnight pushed, her features genuinely pleased and not lewd (for once).

“Shou… seriously? Are you a yogi, or something?” Present Mic asked, a little bashful; “I mean… I feel like a silly kid compared to you and you’re younger than I am… _we_ are” he reminded: “you… you make me feel like we _could_ do something like that, you know?”

“Of course you can” he nodded, still a little confused; “why wouldn’t _you_ think so?”

“O-oh… well, at UA? We were kind’a known as the ‘ _three-dumigos_ ’” the bronzed man chuckled sheepishly along with his friends; “sure, we tried hard and we got our licenses but… compared to the Class Rep and everyone else in our class we were, well? Outcasts, really” he shrugged. “Midnight’s always been so proud of herself and who she is _but_ other people tended to look down on her” he offered; “and Mic and me? Well… let’s just say that being loud and wanting to have a bit of fun _wasn’t_ something our teachers and the student-body thought we should be doing” he huffed.

“I’m sorry that you weren’t appreciated for who you are” he sympathised; “but hey, you’ve proved them all wrong, haven’t you?” he grinned: “you’re out there, making a difference, being Pros, aren’t you?”

“Heh… we could have done with you being there with us, Shou-chwan~!” the woman cooed; “ahh~ I bet you were _super_ popular in school, right?” she smiled knowingly.

“I’m afraid not” he replied honestly; “I tutored some people for extra-money and ran two clubs in middle-school and high-school but, I didn’t have friends… really” he shrugged: “I was too busy for such things, anyway” he furthered before, with a hum, he returned the wall.

“O-oh, ugh? Were you busy with your family?” Loud Cloud asked, his tone a little… pensive? “We’ve heard you talk about those little brothers of yours” he continued, his tone fond: “I bet your folks were real pleased that they could rely on you, huh?”

“My parents are dead” he answered, his hand guiding the roller back to the paint-tray; “my little brothers and I looked out for each in a care-centre a few blocks from here…”

“W-wait? What!? _You_ were one of the kids from the Centre condemned by Social Services a few years ago?!” Present Mic gasped, his tone… distressed; “dude~! Are you okay~?! I mean, holy shit man… that must have been _awful_ ~!” he gushed, the three of them suddenly crowding closer.

“Shou… I had no idea” the white-haired male breathed; “seriously… are you alright?”

Blinking, he regarded them carefully, Dabi and Tomura’s words returning to his mind; they weren’t being nosey, his mind reasoned, the way in which they were looking at him (not with pity, not with sympathy but what he realised was actual care) causing him to swallow a little.

“It… wasn’t easy” he said; “but… it was a long time ago” he reminded: “and… I’ve put a lot of it behind me” he told them, a smile pricking his lips. “One of the motto’s I live by is that I’m not my past… and neither is anyone else” he smiled; “it’s the future that’s important, I…”

“Good merciful heavens, that’s a wonderful— ahh, oh~! _Sorry_ ~!”

Baulking, the group turning as one to the archway, _why_ was he not surprised to see Nedzu (white furred hands snapped over his snouted mouth), Sir Nighteye (a little slack-jawed and shame-faced) and All Might (his usual smile a little strained and overly sheepish, like a kid with their hand in the cookie jar) stood in the archway dressed in leisure-wear. 

Umm…

How long had they been stood there, exactly?

He’d not heard the door-bell chime over the playlist that was now filling the strange, _awkward_ silence thickening between them.

Tch.

It was illogical for them all to be standing around when there was work to do, wasn’t it?

“Oh good, you’re here” he deadpanned whilst, a smile stretching his lips as he gestured; “there’s the paint” he quipped.

“So… let’s get back to it, shall we?”

~*~

The Pros had gushed a great deal once the weirdness had worn off (the three _intruders_ had _deeply_ apologised for inadvertently eavesdropping; he’d told them to knock it off: they hadn’t done it on purpose, after all) and an amicable, conversation-filled work session had started.

However, at 16:30 rolled around, he’d excused himself to get them all some refreshments because the open windows were sending the fumes away and helping everything to dry _but_ there was no denying the oppressive, summer heat, was there?

It was when he’d walked back out of his kitchen, a tray of lemonade in hand, that he’d been ambushed.

“Ahh, Shouta-kun… may I, have a word?”

Blinking up at All Might, his hands depositing the tray onto the service bar with a nod, the café owner smiled at him wryly; “this wouldn’t have anything to do with another muffin order, would it?” he chuckled.

“A-ahh, no… as wonderful as they are” the bronzed man stated (nervously?), his noticeable, flaxen-hair concealed under a cap with the American-flag on it (heh; of course) whilst he rested his arms (with muscles that were probably stronger than banded steel) onto the work surface so that they could regard each other. “I…”

“Hey Shou? Do we have any… oh, ugh… sorry.”

Blinking, the pair looked back to Dabi, a few speckles of white paint spattered across his cheek as he froze, his smile dimming a touch; “I… I’ll come back later…”

“Ahh~! No, please, Dabi-kun… don’t let me keep you~!” the older man laughed (was… was he _blushing_?); “I had only meant to speak to your guardian on a matter that can wait~” he assured with a big, wide smile: “I’ll be away to get some more painting done… _oh~_ an I’ll take these, too~” he gushed before _carefully_ grasping the tray. Once held, he then hurriedly scuttled back to the work-space whilst Shouta and his lodger shared a glance.

“Well… that was weird” the flame quirk user grinned.

“Heh… weird is relative, kid” he chuckled back; “so… what was it that you needed?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It is the TRIUMPHANT return of the DOUBLE UPDATE, yo~!
> 
> XD


	37. Intervention: Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Warnings include: MORE tears (all good, it's SO soft), a smidge of angst (just a smidge, I swear), swearing (I think?), bewilderment/befuddlement/exasperation and...**  
>  **FFFFFFFFFEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEELLLLLLLLSSSSSSSSS~!!**
> 
> XD

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay...
> 
> Now, there are TWO commenters in particular to blame for this...
> 
> YOU'LL KNOW WHO YOU ARE~!
> 
> So, thank you~!!
> 
> ; 3

By the time that 18:00 fell upon them, any awkwardness had been thoroughly forgotten; the new café space looked _better_ than he could have hoped for and, as he gazed at the cat-enclosure, he couldn’t have been more pleased by the little, personal touches each Pro (thoroughly thrilled by the opportunity) had left.

Loud-Mic-Night had each added a little, stencilled cat-doodle (one on a cloud, one with a microphone and one inside a love-heart) and signed their aliases underneath each blue, yellow and purple work of art.

Nedzu had done his paw-hand-prints; he’d also written “ _live happy, drink tea~!_ ” under his _handy_ work.

Heh.

Sir Nighteye (who’d blown them all away with his swift, efficient swipes of finer paint-brushes he’d magicked up from somewhere), on the other hand, had created a life-like cat with All Might’s smile and unusual hair-style in yellows, blues, reds, white and black with block-texted “ _Plus Ultr-Nya~!_ ” in a domed banner over the top of it.

Heh, Izuku and Katsuki would lose their minds when they saw it, wouldn’t they?

The tallest and broadest of their number, however, had simply used the cat-stencils to create a kindle of kittens in different colours surrounding a bigger, black-cat, his smile fond as he regarded them.

“Wah~! That’s _so_ cute, All Might-sama~!” Midnight had preened, the pair having a selfie in front of it before she grabbed him and shoved him next to the blonde, a chuckle pulled from his lips when the other baulked when he bumped into that wide, warm chest. “Hora-hora~ that’s _even_ cuter~!” the only female Pro tittered, her friends similarly snapping photos and giggling like school-kids.

“Ha-ha-ha” he huffed; “knock it off” he chuckled: “our Symbol of Peace will get his approval rating dropped if any news-hound sees him stuck with a scruffy mess like me” he snickered, his eyes rolling. “Now come on, since none of you selfless hero-types will let me pay you for your hard-work, let’s go have some cake” he offered before pulling away and walking back into the café-proper.

All of the dust-sheets had been tided away by the older Pros, Present Mic had hoovered-up, Midnight (favourite duster in hand) had cleared the shelves and sills whilst Loud Cloud had used his quirk to collect any finer-particles and rained them outside so everything was ready for the first round of inspections tomorrow.

“Does anyone have any preferences?”

“I’d rather you not call yourself a _scruffy-mess_ , thank you” Sir Nighteye said primly as they followed him and slid into booths or chairs; “you’re a very fine young man, Aizawa-kun” he added firmly.

Snorting (because, really? He was covered in paint, his hair was a mess and, because worrying about what you looked like outside of ensuring that you met hygiene standards was _illogical_ , he wasn’t what anyone would call _attractive_ , surely?) Shouta skirted around the privacy gate and into the service area, his legs walking to the wide, chilled display-case.

“Dude… you are _not_ seriously disagreeing?” Present Mic called, those mesmerising eyes appraising him over the rims of his white-framed, amber-lensed glasses with _everyone else_ regarding him just as bewilderedly; “you’re like… a twelve out of ten, my man, and that’s _just_ from an aesthetic point of view~” he stated.

“Heh, if you say so” he replied breezily, his hands grabbing the three, smaller cakes he’d whipped up for today (Victoria-sponge with raspberry jam and whipped-cream, chocolate mud-pie and a lemon-lavender drizzle cake) and placing them on the counter before rooting around for plates and bamboo-forks.

“Maa~ Shou-chwan~! Come on, surely the people you’ve dated have told you as much, hmm~” Midnight tittered fondly, her smirk devious whilst the majority of the men baulked; “ahh~ there’s a trail of broken hearts leading to this establishment’s door, isn’t there, hm-hmm~?”

“Eh?” he blinked, his hands removing the protective, plastic cloches and setting them aside; “I’ve never dated anyone” he said before, with a blink, he watched the younger Pros flail whilst All Might coughed, quite violently, into his hand.

_Umm?_

“ _Shut. The. **Front. Door~!**_ ” the shorter of the two blonde demanded, his paint streaked hand smacking down upon the table.

Looking from him to the café’s main point of entry, he felt his right brow cock incredulously; “it is closed…”

“ _Wah~!_ ”

Turning his attention back to the (hysterical?) people who’d _clearly_ breathed in too many fumes, Shouta started to slice up the cake (he’d share out what was left with the tots, teens and Inko) whilst All Might continued to wheeze, Sir Nighteye shook his head, Nedzu looked _just_ as bewildered as he did and the local Pros stared at him with gaping mouths.

What was the big deal?

So he’d never been on a date?

So he’d _never_ asked anyone or _been_ asked… it wasn’t that strange, was it?

Didn’t their country have a declining population rate for a reason?

“No… no, just _no_ ” Midnight said, her deceptively powerful form standing as she pointed her feather duster at him, her expression scarily intense; “that is _not_ fair or right!” she told him hotly: “you _deserve_ better~!”

“I…”

“Look Shou” she barrelled on; “I don’t know who or what your type is… I don’t know if you’re Ace or aromantic, hell, I don’t know if you’re not some deity too _pure_ for human courtship” she furthered, his face becoming more and more confused: “ _but_ you sir, are _going_ to have a date because _you_ deserve to be pampered~!” she told him firmly.

“Tch, I don’t have time for…”

“ _You-don’t-work-on-Sundays~!_ ”

Snapping his head to All Might (who, for reasons unknown to him, blushed _all_ the way to his hairline, hell, even his _ears_ were flushed), Shouta puffed out a defeated breath.

Well, he wasn’t wrong, was he?

“Okay” he said, his tone incredulously, a knowing smirk creeping up his features; “and just _where_ will you find someone who wants to waste one of their only days off of work taking me somewhere, hmm?”

“You’re looking at her~!” she winked, her eyes sparkling.

“Wah~! Nem— _Midnight_ ~! No fair~” Loud Cloud sputtered, his lips pouting; “ _I_ said that _I_ wanted to ask him out…”

“Not before _I_ did~!” Present Mic cut in, those wildly gesticulating hands now shooting finger-guns at him; “I’ve been smitten since he knocked me on my ass, yo~! _We_ had a _moment_ ~!” he argued hotly.

“Well, if the three of you are throwing your hats into the ring then I think it only fair that All Might and myself be considered” Sir Nighteye murmured whilst long, lean fingers pushed his designer frames up the elegant bridge of his nose, those gold-eyes flashing keenly as All Might let out something akin to a squeal as he nodded enthusiastically.

Then, and it was as though he _wasn’t_ even in the room now, the five of them started to work out schedules as he stared (this all had to be some kind of weird delirium; hmm, maybe _he’d_ been the one who’d breathed in too many fumes? Perhaps he was passed out on the floor somewhere and this was _all_ a dream?), his expression nonplussed.

What… was happening, exactly?

“Maa~ well, if it’s any consolation, Aizawa-kun” Nedzu said, his short form stood before the display case and looking up at him with a sneaky grin whilst the others grew more animated in their schemes; “ _I_ only want to poach you for the school I’ll be becoming principal off next year, you know~!”

~*~

By 18:30 he’d _finally_ waved the group off (after having to assure them, for the hundredth time, that he’d not been offended by their plotting and planning; in fact, if he was honest with himself? He was actually kind of… flattered? It wouldn’t do anyone any harm just to spend some time together, would it?) and made his way upstairs.

Heh, he knew that Inko (along with Mistuki and her friends because he expected the news to travel fast) would get a real kick out of him _actually_ going on a date with each of the Pros.

He’d flat out refused Nedzu though; hell, the crazy-genius had offered to “ _fast-track your hero-license~! I mean, then _nothing_ would stop you from acting valiantly if and when you needed too~! Oh, and I’d _only_ ask for a few Sunday sessions for our talented young people, too~!_”

God.

Sure, it’d been incredibly generous of him to ask (he’d told the man as much) _but_ his heart was here, with the community he was building.

The shortest Pro, however, clearly undeterred and sporting a certain glint in his eye, had simply winked at him whilst cryptically saying “ _the offer still stands and will stand in the future, my friend~! I’ll see you gracing our halls one day, I’m sure~!_ ”

Heh, what a day…

Although, his feet padding up the stairs with cake and drinks in hand upon a wide-tray, he couldn’t say that he wasn’t… _appreciative_ of the attention and he’d told them all, bluntly, that he’d only go through with their machinations so long as _no one_ was going to take things too seriously.

For, regardless of her forthright assumptions, Midnight _was_ right…

He… he wasn’t sure what his sexuality was…

Or if he even had one at all…

It’d never bothered him and he wasn’t lying to himself or others when he said that he’d been too busy to consider such things (because he _had_ been, he _was_ ) but, perhaps they were right.

 _Maybe_ he was missing out on something; however, he didn’t want to _test-the-waters_ if any of the people he valued as friends would become upset if he _did_ want start something as important as a relationship with only one of them _or_ forget the whole thing all together.

They’d promised that their intentions, to quote All Might, were “ _completely chivalrous and in the interest of broadening your horizons and _spoiling_ you rotten, Shouta-kun~!_”

Heh.

How irrational.

“… he’s coming, _shush~!_ ”

Blinking out of his thoughts (hmm; Inko would have text him if something untoward had happened during their decorating, wouldn’t she?), the café owner reached the top of the stairs, ditched his flip-flops and walked into the living area where the teens, tots and oldest Midoriya were awaiting him.

They all looked thoroughly accomplished and he couldn’t help but smile at them; “are you all done?” he asked whilst placing the tray onto the coffee table.

“Ooh~! Yes, yes, you gotta come see~!” Hitoshi squealed, he and Izuku dashing forward to grab his hands and pull him into their new living space with a happily-tearful Inko and two preening teens following behind them.

From the streaks of paint covering them all, he suspected that there’d been one or two playful, colour-fights throughout the afternoon.

Heh.

 _Adorable_.

“Okay… close your eyes, Shou-nii~!”

Chuckling and doing as instructed, he allowed the youngest boys to guide him into the room at the end of the now four bedroomed-apartment, the one that Tomura had claimed (since he’d only be using it every so often before he, Dabi and Hitoshi _finally_ convinced him to call his uncle about a change of address) for himself.

“Taa-daa~!”

Opening his eyes, Shouta took in the dove-grey walls before gasping at the RPG inspired murals scattered across them, his brows reaching for his hairline; “my God” he breathed before walking over to view each one because, in various styles of fantasy costume, he saw everyone of his study group, the teens, himself and a few people he didn’t recognise.

A gaggle of the students were outside a tavern counting coins…

Then they were on a quest…

Tomura was decked out in Knight’s gear…

Dabi was a mage with flaming hands…

Eijiro was a dragon…

Katsuki a barbarian…

Izuku, Denki and the girls were similarly decked in such mediaeval attire (as scouts, sorcerers and explorers) whilst Hitoshi was a wizard, his form triumphantly posed with his foot stomping down on (a comically crying, definitely defeated) Mr Compress…

He, however, featured in several scenes; in one he was a vendor selling magic cakes, in another he was a healer helping the sick but the majority of them showed him defeating foes and standing protectively in front of the younger children.

Inko and the other mothers were, however, shown to but sat happily around a round table with Mimi-chan and her girls making up a tapestry of their adventures.

There were cats (manga-styled, chibi, realistic) _everywhere_.

“Isn’t it like the most AMAZING thing you’ve ever seen~!!” the emerald haired boy said, his eyes streaming tears; “Dabi-nii drew it all and let us colour it in~!” he advised.

Shifting his gaze to the sheepish flame quirk user who was blushing-pink across his high cheek-bones whilst Tomura leaned against him affectionately, Shouta chuckled; “ _we_ have got to get you into some kind of College art-course” he stated frankly. “You’ve got the skills to make it in all kinds of industries” he reasoned, his hands gesturing around; “I mean… my God, I shouldn’t be hiding you away in my café of all places” he huffed, his eyes alight with pride.

“O-oh, you think so?” the other said a little bashfully; “heh… this is just something I like to do, you know?”

Walking over and pulling the younger man into a hug, the eatery owner sighed when the gesture was returned; “I don’t want to push you into anything” he told him gently: “but… if you do want to pursue this as a career, then I’ll back you every step of the way, alright?” he offered.

“ _Bankruptcy_ ” the other huffed as they released each other; “thanks… I… I’ll think about it” he smiled.

“Good” he nodded before looking to the other young man; “come on, _surely_ this is enough to get you to stay with us?” he grinned.

Smiling shyly, his own face pinked, Tomura rubbed the back of his neck; “well… I thought this could be used by the smols, you know? As well as me?” he said: “but… maybe, maybe I will start to stay over more… it’s just…”

“I understand” he cut in kindly; “you have other family to consider, we get that” he stated whilst Hitoshi hugged his leg and Dabi huffed: “you will always have a home here, though, alright?”

Flushing a little darker and nodding, Shouta then allowed the six-year-olds to lead him out of the space and into the room his oldest ward would be using; similarly to the chamber they’d just left, the walls were in blues and greys, however, on the wall his futon would be pressed again, another mural rested.

“Wow” he murmured; “what kind of flower is that?” he asked.

“I’m… not really sure?” the scarred teen sighed, those turquoise eyes somehow sad and fond at the same time; “but… they’re my mom’s favourite” he said slowly: “all of my memories of her have them in it” she furthered before, with a little sigh. “But come on, there’s still more to see” he gestured before briskly leaving.

Sharing a quick look with Tomura (who softly shook his head) and Inko (who was wiping her eyes) he and his half-pint guides ventured out of the room, through the archway and into Hitoshi’s room, the iris haired boy eagerly tugging him inside.

“It’s mommy, see?”

The room was in soft lavenders and mauve whilst, over the tot’s sleeping spot, a gorgeous scene of Kimiko smiling and surrounded by orchids in varying shades, cats, butterflies and onigiri burgeoned like something out of a dream.

“Isn’t Dabi-nii _so_ clever~?!” the child asked whilst he ran over to it, his little hands tracing one of the beautiful petals reverently; “Inko-san did a _real_ good job with alla the shading, too~!”

“O-oh, Toshi-chan… it… it was my honour, truly~” the overwhelmed woman offered whilst nodding vigorously as she and her son struggled not to set their water-works off any stronger; “o-oh, you _are_ such an incredibly talented young man~!” she furthered before swamping the flame quirk user in a bone crushing hug.

“A-ah… thanks?” he wheezed whilst Hitoshi giggled and Tomura, his grin devious, started to snap a plethora of photographs.

Damn.

He’d have to start looking into winter-courses for the kid.

He could make an excellent living for himself doing something that he enjoyed now, couldn’t he?

Hmm…

“Heh, well… if we ever _do_ need another source of income then I’m turning our home into a gallery” he announced, his arms folding determinedly, his tone decisive.

Wow.

The cat-enclosure was going to look _fantastic_ by the time that his young friend finished with it, too.

“Okay, I think all of this hard work deserves some…”

“Oh? You didn’t think that _your_ room would be left out, did you, cat-dad?” 

Blinking owlishly, Shouta regarded Dabi with a wide smile; “really?” he asked, his tone delighted.

“Tch, _really_ he says” the younger snorted, a talented, now multicoloured hand reaching for his and pulling him along; “look… if you don’t like it and want it covered up I can…”

“ _Dabi_ ” he cut in, his fingers squeezing the ones that’d captured his own; “I’ll love it because _you_ made it for me” he assured, his smirk a little rueful: “ _now_ who doesn’t love themselves as they should, huh?”

Smiling back, not a hint of snark or deflection to be seen, the younger man continued to guide him into his room where his futon had been pushed away from its usual resting place.

“My God” he breathed for there, looking back at him, was a big, black cat (the detail was _amazing_ ) sporting a cook’s cap and apron, its proud form sat next to a mug which had “#1 Cat Dad” on it with cakes of various descriptions haloed all around it.

“We _need_ to get this onto our official branding” he murmured; “and I’m going to have to up your pay…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sssssoooooo...
> 
> Dates? MULTIPLE DATES~!
> 
> Yes, well... I thought it'd be FUN~!
> 
> XD
> 
> That way we can all see how the dynamics pan out, you can tell me what you think and, together? We can see who (if anyone) Shouta could be shipped with here...
> 
> I need to stress that Shouta-centric plot will ALWAYS be king but... so many of you lovelies have been talking to me/supporting me/posing questions so hey? This will be sweet, no ones gonna get hurt and although I think I'm leaning towards EraserMight, let's just see how we go, eh~!
> 
> This ALSO means that anyone who doesn't think a ship is needed can STILL enjoy the plot/story because if a relationship IS built here then it'll be referenced BUT it won't cloud the cat-dad doing what he needs to, okay~!
> 
> Oooohhhh~!
> 
> The cats~!
> 
> They're coming NEXT CHAPTER~!
> 
> WWWWWWOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO~!!
> 
> XD


	38. Feline Family…

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Warnings include: a smidge of angst (it's a smidge, I swear~!), swearing (I think?), tooth-rotting adorableness, HAPPY TEARS, PEOPLE~! HAPPY TEARS ONLY~!**
> 
> b>And FFFFFFFFFFEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEELLLLLLLLLLLSSSSSS, of course~!
> 
> XD

Monday morning saw his regular rush of customers after he, Katsuki, Izuku and Hitoshi went for their 05:45 run and, feeling buoyed after his weekend treats, the iris haired boy had returned to school, his two friends walking him most of the way.

Heh, such good kids.

Mimi-chan and the girls had come by with Sora (who’d be having her baby soon and was _craving_ onigiri drizzled with chocolate sauce; who was he to deny her?), their eyes astonished by the space as they wandered inside the enclosure with paint-pots and brushes in hand to bestow their own little drawings upon the area.

Tomura had returned to his apartment for “home-school” and Dabi, so much lighter, even happier than what he’d been recently, continued to diligently clean the tables, serve the patrons and enter the enclosure himself, his artist’s eye critical and his sketches developing all the time.

He’d ensured that there was still plenty of room for the study-group to add their own paintings when they came by later, too.

Ah, it was great to see so many things coming together, wasn’t it?

Then, the 10:00 lull settling over them, Shiretoko Tomoko bounced in with her usual verve, those amber eyes aglow as he showed her around the property (she’d adored the feline space, praised the private area for them to move in and out of and complimented the overall design). He’d then gone over the smart-till (the same one she’d operated in Star Bucks; fantastic), walked her into the kitchen (she’d cooed over the cakes and how efficiently everything was arranged) and asked if she had any questions.

“ _When can I start~?!_ ” had been called so loudly that he’d felt Dabi’s eyes rolling all the way from the other room.

Heh.

They were going to get along, he was sure of it.

Then, after half an hour of working out a timetable (“ _I’m only at part-time student at MU and, well? Now that I’ll be working with the others at their mentor’s Agency, I might give it up all together… I… I’ve never really liked Economics, you know? Everyone’s so dull and serious in my course anyway~!”_ ) and rate of pay, they shook hands.

And so, from next Monday onwards? Tomoko would work from 13:00 – 20:00 for six days a week and predominantly man the cat-enclosure to ensure that paying customers had their allotted time of access, that the patrons were respectful to the felines and that the enclosure didn’t become over-crowded. She’d also be providing small, pre-measured portions of cat-treats to the patrons for 200yen and make sure that the litter trays were regularly cleared and the water-dishes always full.

She told him that she couldn’t _believe_ she’d be getting paid for something she’d been doing for free~!

He’d told her that he couldn’t think of anyone better to love and look after their new, whiskered family members.

Another rib-crushing hug had been wrapped about him before he’d had a chance to defend himself.

“Welcome to the Noraneko Café” he’d grinned, his voice a little strained; “we’re really happy to have you here…”

~*~

The rest of the week flew-by.

That Monday afternoon the study-group had marvelled at Dabi’s work (they’d all asked (some shyly, others a little more firmly) if he’d add a doodle or two to their note-pads) and added their own designs to the cat-space.

Tsuyu had brought some cute cat and love-heart stickers that she’d shared around her friends (Eijiro had pinched one to sneakily press it onto Katsuki’s cheek and, instead of the explosion they’d all been expecting, the blonde had blushed, asked for a similar sticker and tapped it onto the ebony haired-boy’s forehead with a huff; _adorable_ ).

Ochaco had floated Denki and Izuku up to the top shelves with Tomura supervising, her smile filled with pride as they’d praised and thanked her for allowing them to add a few of the paw-print stampers Inko had gotten them to make a border around the uppermost walls and ceiling.

Hitoshi had had a relatively good first day back at school as no one had bothered him about his mom (whose name had been kept out of the news, thank God; he had a feeling that he had a certain blonde, his side-kick and legal team to thank for that) and had proudly led his friends upstairs to show off more of “ _Dab-nii’s_ ” master-pieces.

On Tuesday and Wednesday the cat-beds, tethered-toys, litter-trays and poop-scoops had arrived alongside the few items that Mitsuki had squealed “ _oh Shouta~! We couldn’t _not_ get these for the kitty-cats~!_” at him down the phone when he’d called to thank her.

There were a few activity centres (featuring balls trapped in tubes for them to chase after), mobiles of suspended soft-mice, bells and ribbon, two large exercise wheels and a tree-tower that, once assembled, was taller than him; it’d be perfect for the back wall beneath the jungle-gym shelving.

Then, Thursday, Friday and Saturday moving on like the blink of an eye (the dry-food and supplements for Jiji and Hime similarly arriving), Sunday morning _finally_ came.

And if the tots had been _just_ a little more distracted than usual in their self-defence class then _he_ wasn’t going to fault them for it.

He was so pleased that they were all here and ready to bring the cats they’d helped to rescue into their forever home.

God.

He just hoped that they’d like it.

The Health and Safety Inspectors had certainly seemed to think that they would with one of them even promising to come back as just a customer in a week or so’s time.

Heh, she’d be more than welcome, of course.

“Ugh~! Is it nearly time yet~?” Denki had sighed after squirting half of his water-bottle over his head and face (hmm, he hoped that the Yoga Studio would get back to him soon about accommodating him and his classes; the heat seemed to be ramping up every day); “I hope Raijin remembers me~!”

“Tch, stop being so impatient” Katsuki (of all people) huffed; “you gotta be calm around cats so don’t go grabbing at him or anything” he advised, the kick he’d sent Eijiro’s way expertly countered by the slightly shorter boy who grinned at him toothily and redoubled his efforts.

“I know, I know Kacchan” the other blonde replied, his tone a little wistful; “I’m gonna be the best cat-helper I can be but… ugh, could you let me know if I get a lil too hyper, or something, please?”

Watching the exchange with a snickering Dabi, Shouta had ruffled those unruly mops of hair as he’d passed them to help Ochaco (who was displaying a real flare for take-downs and combos) and Tsuyu (whose heightened agility and leg strength gave them all a run for their money) with their accuracy whilst Izuki and Hitoshi continued to work in tandem.

Heh; they were all getting exceptionally good.

Maybe it was worth approaching a local dojo to get them registered?

The kids having accredited belts in a discipline would definitely help them to be considered for hero courses and further any other goals or ambitions they might have, wouldn’t it?

Hmm…

“Maa~ Shou-nii? D’you think that they’ll still remember us?” Eijiro asked, his arms effectively blocking a kick sent his way by Denki; “it feels like the last time we saw them was _forever_ ago~!” he admitted before deflecting Katsuki’s jabbing fists.

“I’m certain that they’ll be just as happy to see you as you’ll be to see them” he assured warmly; “however, all of you need to bear in mind that this will be a disorientating experience for our new friends” he called across them: “so if they’re a little standoffish in the first instance, don’t worry” he told them. “Let them get settled in, don’t be concerned if they find their beds or exploring something that they’d prefer to do than have a play or a cuddle with you” he pre-warned. “As much as we love them and can’t wait for them to be here… we mustn’t lose sight of them being living creatures with their own autonomy, alright?”

“We understand, Shou-nii~!”

~*~

At 11:07, their cat related prayers were _finally_ answered…

“I see her~! I see her~! She’s here~! She’s here~!”

Watching as all four of his booths were filled with children, their excited faces all but smushed against the bay-windows, Shouta chuckled and beckoned Dabi, Tomura and Koji-san to follow him (the oldest Kaminari was _almost_ as excited as his son) whilst Inko had the difficult task of keeping the tots calm. 

Heh.

He knew which job _he’d_ rather be doing and so, the café’s door propped open, the four of them approached the Neko Nakama logoed microvan that’d just pulled up outside of his eatery, Tomoko’s delighted face smiling at them as she hopped out of the driver’s seat and approached the back of the vehicle to open the wide, cat-crate stacked space.

“Okay… let’s get the older guys out first” she advised, her gloveless hands passing a grumpy looking Jiji (his form crouched in the back of the container) to a grinning Tomura and lightly panting Hime to Koji; Hahaue and her boys were placed in his care whilst Dabi gently cradled Homura’s carrier. Then, the café’s latest residents chuffing grumbling and mewling curiously, the men walked back to the eatery whilst his newest employee started to gently pull the other crates towards the vehicle’s exit.

“ _Ooh~! Look at their little noses twitchin~!_ ” Ochaco stage-whispered beside Izuku, her chestnut eyes locking onto a mewling Hime whilst he and Hitoshi glued their starry eyes onto the Bombay kittens curiously shoving their little faces against the grate of their crate.

“Okay, let’s take them into their private room and then, when everyone’s inside, we’ll let them out, see if they want a drink and then guide them through the cat-flaps and into the enclosure, okay?” he instructed, the other males following him.

After seeing them nod their understanding, he back-peddled through the door and held it open for the others; when they were all inside, they placed the crates (the cats sighing at the cool, clean air) onto their designated shelf-spaces before quickly making their way back out again.

“Kids? You can go into the enclosure now, alright?” he grinned; “find somewhere to sit and pick up a few toys to entice them with, okay?”

Smiling brightly (Katsuki and Izuku shushing Denki and Eijiro as their excitement threatened to bubble over; heh, such good kids), the tots quickly and carefully made their way passed the shatter-proof glass door that Inko gently slid out of the way, her face similarly enchanted as she giggled herself onto a beanbag.

Then, venturing back into the sunshine, Koji took Raijin (who preened as the man cooed at him), Dabi snickered at Bakusatsugo whilst the tabby hissed wildly, Tomura grinned at Kero who purred at attention whilst he took Red Riot’s carrier, the perky kitten bounding around excitedly with a flicking set of ears and snaking tail. 

“Yay~! I’m _so_ happy that I get to be here to welcome them home, too~!” Tomoko grinned widely, her slender form rushing to lock the van and skip after them; “and is it true? Is All Might-o going to do the official opening tomorrow at 17:00? Eee~! I can’t believe that I _finally_ get to meet him~!” she gushed. “Do… do you think it’d be wrong of me ask for an autograph, a selfie~! _Oh_ ~! Both~?!” she asked, her energy levels already giving the study-group a run for their money.

Chuckling at her, Shouta gave the jade-haired woman an indulgent smile; “I’m sure he’d be more than happy to give you both” he assured: “however… all I ask is that you only invite a few people to come along with you, alright?” he asked. “The last thing we need is a media circus, isn’t it?”

“O-oh, ugh, well… heh… that, that won’t be a problem” she replied, her smile dimming.

Ahh, _shit_.

How could he have been so insensitive, he…

“Tch, that’ll change after you’ve worked here for a few days” Dabi told her as they made their way inside; “if the cat-dad doesn’t work his magic on your social life then the air-headed people you’re going to hero with, will” he offered with a light shrug. “The Noraneko Café _somehow_ makes sure that no one is a stray for long… you’ll see…”

~*~

Standing inside the climate-controlled area that their new, feline family members would have as their quiet-space, sleeping quarters and meal-station, Shouta smiled as Hahaue leapt to the ground whilst he assisted her sons to do the same.

In fact, with the exception of Jiji (who was now hunkered in Tomura’s arms and showing _no_ signs of leaving the nest he’d made for himself in the fawning teen’s arms) and Homura (who was similarly planted onto Dabi’s foot before the flame quirk user carefully leaned down to scoop him into his arms), the cats were roaming around inquisitively.

Hell, he wasn’t a betting man, however, if he’d placed any serious money on Red Riot, Bakusatsugo, Hero and Hotaru being the first to launch themselves (Kero and Raijin not far behind) through the cat-flaps and into the enclosure, then he’d be a wealthy man.

Heh.

The muted, elated sounds of the children filtering through the feline-friendly gaps in the lower wall sections were like music to his ears.

“You two can walk them through if you like?” he offered his teens, their smiles soft as they nodded and made their way whilst Hahaue (did… had she just rolled her eyes?) slinked through the flap her wayward kits had bounded through whilst Hime, with a relieved sigh, lapped at one of the water bowls before similarly ambling through.

Chuckling despite himself, Shouta eagerly left the maintenance room and made his own way to the enclosure, his body stopping short of the door to take the whole scene in.

Tethered mice in hand, Hitoshi and Izuku encouraged the black, lustrous kittens into a gentle play that he took a few photo’s off for Kimiko’s memory book whilst Inko, her smile wobbly, knelt between the two, her fingers carefully offered for the happy kits to rub against.

Dabi and Tomura, lost in their own conversations and feline affection, had sat in one of the back corners under the most expansive cat-tree-tower whilst Jiji (balled up in the decay quirk user’s lap) settled down to snooze and the one eye Homura sat proudly upon the flame quirk user’s crossed legs, that cerulean gaze observing the activity with a haughty indifference.

Hime, now so much cooler (Tomoko had very kindly groomed her before arrival, a special comb helping to remove some of that thick, under-coat) had flopped into Ochaco’s teary form, that floofy tail swaying lazily as she allowed the girl to lavish her with soft touches and strokes.

Katsuki, Eijio, Tsuyu and Denki, their feet pressed together to form a square, sat upon the cool floor with their boisterous brood pouncing on the barrier of their legs, the snaking toys they’d picked up to entertain them with and a small, bell-filled ball that Bakusatsugo and Red Riot were chasing around.

Kaminari Koji, rivers of tears running down his face, kept taking pictures on his phone whilst he bemoaned his beloved wife’s allergies.

Snickering to himself, he then looked for Hahaue who, strangely, was sat by the door, that golden gaze fixed on him questioningly.

And so, needing no further invitation, he pulled the door to one side (whilst making sure that no mischievous kits were spying their chance to make a hasty exit), slipped inside and closed it behind him before crouching down to offer his hand to the imperious Bombay, his smile fond.

“Will this do, hmm?” he asked her; “d’you think you can be happy here?”

Chuffing at him, she gave his fingers a firm headbutt before prowling around him, her glossy flank rubbing at his legs before she mewled, the side of her face sinking into his knee.

Chuckling, he gave her ears (God… _so soft_ ) an affectionate scratch before standing and making his way to where Tomoko (her form a little overwhelmed) was sitting, his body plonking next to her on a cubed stool as she leaned against him.

“T-thank you” she told him quietly; “getting to be a part of this… almost every day it’s… it’s more than I ever thought I could have” she expressed after a little sniff before, with a blink, she leaned down to scoop Hahaue (who’d mewled indignantly about being left out) up to snuggle between them.

“Heh… let’s see if you feel the same way when you’re helping me empty ten litter boxes” he snickered; “but, you’re welcome, of course” he shrugged, his shoulder nudging hers in a brotherly manner: “I meant what I said before, you know? We’re very lucky to have you” he breathed. “I wouldn’t trust our feline family members with just anyone now, would I?”

~*~

As 14:00 happened upon them, everyone in his café (cats included) fed and watered, Shouta welcomed Mitsuki and Kirishima Jun into the café for a proper introduction before waving them and their sons off.

Tsuyu’s father, a little _skittish_ , had been more than happy to look at Kero through the glass before walking his daughter and Ochaco home; Kaminari Koji, however, the generous man that he was, had insisted that the three get into his SUV and that it’d be his pleasure to drive them, an ecstatic Denki more than pleased to have the girls as company.

Then, having some work to catch up on, Inko had returned to her apartment whilst Izuku stayed with them until the adult self-defence lesson that evening.

Strangely, the teens had forgone their usual video game marathon to stay in the enclosure; Homura, becoming more confident, had allowed Hahaue to coax him into one of the tree-towers whilst Jiji, his face petulant, had made a firm home for himself inside Tomura’s hoody pouch, his kinked pom flicking in an annoyed twitch whenever the teen went to dislodge him.

The kits now, however, with only two tots to play with, had taken to fully exploring their new home before leaping at a giggling Izuku and Hitoshi as Tomoko watched on, Hime sprawled across her lap with heavy, rolling purrs.

Hell.

At this rate they’d go bankrupt because _none_ of them would want to leave the enclosure, would they?

However, a text-message pinging to life on his phone, Shouta found himself moving towards the closed café’s door to welcome Mimi-chan and the girls, their giddy forms already cooing over the fresh lemonade and slices of fruit-cake (the kindly woman’s favourite, or so Su-chan had told him) whilst he took his benefactor’s arm and walked her through to her completely reformatted florist’s.

“Oohhh~! Shouta-chan~! It’s beautiful… oh? And… what? What is this~?!”

Smiling, his left arm gesturing to the fourth booth, the eatery owner smiled; “unless we’re incredibly busy” he advised: “ _this_ booth is your “Knitting Nook”, alright?” he offered, the four women tearing and gushing over the banner that Dabi had made for them. “And you’ll never have to pay to enter the cat enclosure, okay? You just might have to wait a while if there are twelve people already in there” he smiled, their shaking arms giving him shuddering hugs whilst cotton hankies dabbed at their eyes.

“You are a dear, _sweet_ boy~!” Mimi-chan told him after a healthy mouthful of cake that had her preening; “oohhh~! If I was only thirty years younger I’d just eat you up, I would~!”

Snickering (a little voice in the back of his mind advising that she’d have to get inline; Midnight was taking him out for his first, official date after Hitoshi and Denki’s birthday party… _apparently_ ), Shouta leaned down and pressed a chaste kiss to her temple.

“I don’t doubt it” he told her whilst the woman cooed; “now come on, there are some new members of our family that I’d love to introduce you to…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CATS FOR DAYS~!!
> 
> XD
> 
> ;_;
> 
> Oh, and Mimi-chan~! You GOTS to love the older generation~!
> 
> We STAN one fine gaggle of older ladies living life large, yo~!
> 
> Hohohooo~!
> 
> Midnight/Shouta date... can you feel the hype~!?
> 
> Also, in other news... guys, you EraserMight lovin' lovelies~! I see you!~ I hear you BUT everyone is gonna get a fair shot...
> 
> Just to fulfil my twisted desires, if nothing else~!
> 
> Fufufufufuuuuu~!
> 
> And yes... all dates will be done/out of the way before AFO comes for a... visit~!
> 
> XD
> 
> I have... such plans~!
> 
> (But, just to stress; this is a safe space, we're all gonna be fine~!)
> 
> AFO? Maybe not so much~!
> 
> *Cackles*


	39. Enter Iguchi Shuichi …

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Warnings include: swearing, references to injury, drunken-thugs, references to people being chased/intent to cause harm, a smidge of angst and...**
> 
> **FFFFFFFFFEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEELLLLLLLLLLLLSSSSSSSSSS~!!**
> 
> XD

Monday saw the usual morning crowd arriving earlier than usual to get a sneak-peak of the felines who, after the “ _incredibly important, Shouta-kun~!_ ” official opening of the cat-enclosure at 17:00, would be available to pet and adore in person from then on after 13:00.

He wanted the cats to have the mornings to themselves and, of course, since most of his community were working and studying at that time of the day, it’d be illogical to have Dabi (whom he wanted to start _seriously_ thinking about becoming accredited for his talents) man the enclosure at that time, wouldn’t it?

This rational decision had _nothing_ to do with him and the teen getting a little private time to groom, care-for and bond with the cats of course.

Heh…

“Ah, Aizawa-san? Who made the information posters for the cats, neh?” the man he was serving asked, a selection of artfully put together pages (laminated and arranged by Tomura the previous evening; heh, such a good kid) proudly displayed beneath the chalk-board menu overhead.

Smiling at the purple-skinned man with leafy-green hair (they’d swapped business cards a few weeks ago: he was a talent-scout, if he remembered correctly), he nudged Dabi lightly in his t-shirt covered side, the teen wrapping up a sandwich order for one of the blushing middle-school girls who’d not given up on bagging him just yet.

Ahh…

If Tomura ever _did_ decide to move in with them fully and made an appearance during their (arguably) busiest time of day, then he was _pretty_ sure she’d get the message that the flame-quirk user was taken; the grey haired teen was becoming, thankfully, so much more comfortable returning the taller boy’s affection in front of others.

“My manager and his partner are the creative geniuses behind our new logo _and_ the posters” he praised fondly, his hands swiftly and efficiently placing the egg-plant quirked man’s onigiri, raspberry-brownie and coffee order into a white, paper-bag dotted with black paw-print stamps.

The teen huffed, his cheeks pinking a touch before, his elbow returning the nudge with a wry grin; “it’s _just_ a hobby of mine” he snickered pointedly: “kind of like this not so old guy and the bento-boxes that sell-out in the first five minutes of being open, you know?” 

~*~

Welcoming Tomoko at 13:00 (she was dressed in a yellow, flared skirt and waist-coat styled top to match, her pretty face painted up with whiskers and eyeliner whilst her long, shimmering hair was tied into an artful, food-safety approved bun topped off with cat-ears; _of course_ ), he gave her some lunch…

“ _Shouta~! You’ve got to let me pay for this~!_ ”

“ _Being provided with your meals is a company perk and you can have whatever you like…_ ”

“ _But… but that’s…_ ”

“ _Just eat it and say thank you_ ” Dabi had snorted as he passed them on his way to ‘hang out’ with Homura and the other cats during his break; “ _this is what he does…_ ”

Heh.

Watching her demolish the BLT alongside a slice of Victoria-sponge cake with a wide grin and thankful bow, the café owner had smiled in turn, ruffled his lodger’s hair and gone about cleaning the toilets before heading outside to check on the few customer’s lounging under the parasols, wiping down the tables and inspecting the windows.

Hmm.

They could do with another clean, soon, couldn’t they?

So there was another good reason to make his version of a “water park” up for Denki and Hitoshi’s birthday party this coming Sunday, wasn’t it?

Both had approached him yesterday to ask for it and who was he to say no?

Grinning at the thought, he was just about to make his way back inside when, out of the corner of his eye, he saw someone standing in the shadows of an alley across the cracked-road that swerved his eatery, his eyes narrowing a touch.

Was…

Was that _blood_ on the person’s wash-faded hoody or was it a pattern?

Frowning lightly, he felt his legs walking him onto the proper sidewalk, his booted feet stopping short of the road whilst he peered at the (kid? Possibly short adult?) now pressed a little more firmly against the shadowy-wall of the trash-can lined back-street.

“Hey!” he called; “are you alright?”

Watching as the person flinched a bit, his old sneakers shuffling his torn-jeans (was that… green skin peeking out between the rips?) legs a little further back, he felt his brows furrow when the person (the oversized hood covering most of their face) nodded its head, turned and ambled back down the dank, narrow passageway.

Humming thoughtfully, Shouta returned to his eatery; it’d be too intrusive of him to go after the other and he _certainly_ didn’t want to alarm them.

Shit, if he was right and they _were_ hurt, feeling as though a strange was chasing them wouldn’t help matters, would it?

However, there was no quieting the worry that’d spiked in him when the person’s movements kept replaying in his mind.

They were the movements of someone in pain, weren’t they?

That person could need medical attention, couldn’t they?

Hmm…

~*~

Keeping his eye on the area for the rest of the day (and asking Tomoko and Dabi to do the same), Shouta hadn’t seen hide nor hair of the mysterious stranger and so, the “celebratory, ceremonial” opening of the cat enclosure very nearly upon them, he went into his kitchen, portioned up the gateaux’ he’d made and stirred up the pitchers of mint, pomegranate and matcha lemonade.

He’d text the local Pros to keep an eye out for the mysterious _boy_ (he thought; he’d told them he really wasn’t sure what gender, if any, the person was), too, just to be safe.

It tore at his heart to think that the kid could be sat in a doorway or one of the old, mostly abandoned warehouses where Boss-sama’s brothels and Pachinko shop (amongst other small, dingey businesses) used to be, his injuries untreated and spirits low.

But, he lamented, just as Nedzu had pointed out to him, as a citizen and _not_ a registered hero, he couldn’t legally (or morally; it would be kind of creepy, upon reflection) go running around demanding to know if people were okay.

The impracticality aside, that was an irrational thing for him to do, anyway; he had his hands full with the wonderful community he was still building and now had found himself as the proud guardian to three young men (a handful of Pros, other children _and_ their parents, besides) who needed him to be around, stable and in one piece.

And that, regardless of his conscience nagging at him, was far more important than anything else.

Huffing to himself, the cut-up cake now re-shelved in his largest chiller with the jugs of liquid swiftly following, he’d _just_ been thinking about pouring himself another coffee when his phone * **bzz-bzz-bzz** * in his back pocket.

Humming, he pulled it free from his jeans whilst walking into the service-bar area, his eyes casting around the mostly quiet eatery. Mimi-chan and the girls were in their booth, merrily knitting up clothes for Sora-san’s child and making fluffy pom-poms for the cats, Dabi was in the gaming area with Tomura and Tomoko, wonderfully, had struck up a conversation with Bubble Girl, her amber eyes looking at the younger woman’s laptop and offering advice.

 _Ahh_.

Hopefully that was another friendship in the works, wasn’t it? 

Snickering to himself, he looked to his phone and felt his eyebrows creeping towards his hairline in confusion…

AM: “Which one should I wear?!”

Umm?

Tch, why in the world would All Might ask _him_ for advice about such things? He had a grand total of eight outfits altogether and two of those were (summer vs. winter) night-wear.

AM: “Sent an Image”

Tapping the blurred-square when it’d finished downloading (God bless reasonable wifi subscriptions), Shouta felt a strange sensation ghost across his cheeks when his screen was eaten up by the high-definition photograph.

 _Umm_ …

For there, his lower half covered in expertly tailored black pants, stood a bare-chested Symbol of Peace whom may as well have been sculpted out of bronze, his left hand holding a crisp, white-shirt featuring a black, silk tie dotted with white cats. In his right? A similarly expensive royal-blue shirt draped from its hanger, a red, silk tie featuring a singular black cat with a crimson tongue and golden eyes sat upon its broadest panel.

Swallowing thickly (that… was _a lot_ of chest, wasn’t it? Did the guy even have an ounce of fat on him? _Why_ was he thinking about the warm feel of that flesh after Midnight had knocked him into the power-house the other day?), he let out a huff.

AS: “white shirt, red tie” he typed back, his fingers rapidly tapping away; “now hurry up or you’ll be late for the _grand_ opening you bullied me into” he added for good measure, his digits then sliding across the screen to send the Pro pictures of the banner and ceremonial ribbon the teens and Tomoko had set up. Then, a smile tugging his lips, he forwarded a photograph that Dabi had snapped of him yesterday (for Kimiko’s memory book) evening; he’d been sat in one of the enclosure’s back corners, Hitoshi sleeping in his arms as he read aloud from an illustrated story book.

Hahaue was nestled in the boy’s lap alongside her kittens whilst, next to him, Tomura was leaning, those crimson eyes looking back at the camera with a pout whilst Jiji snored in the sixteen-year-old’s hoody pouch with Hime, her long body stretched out like a floofy boa, lounged around his shoulders.

AS: “cat cuddles are proving to be _very_ popular around here and yes, before you ask, you can pet them when you come by” he finished before slipping the phone back into his pocket, grabbing his cleaning supplies and doing another round of spot-checking.

You could never be too clean, these days, could you? 

~*~

When 17:00 arrived, the café was a buzz and (thankfully; his community had been true to their word in keeping their special guests _hush_ ) media-free (heh; unless not even the gossip-rags wanted to make their way to this mostly deprived area) with the tables offering cake and glasses of lemonade that were being passed around.

Sir Nighteye, in a dashing, deep-navy suit completed with his usual red, gold-spotted tie (because the guy had a look and he clearly didn’t want to abandon it) had driven himself and All Might, the white-shirt capped off with a black dinner jacket (tch, he looked like he was going to a photo-shoot, didn’t it?) to the café bang on time.

The Pro trio, waving at him through the bay windows, weren’t too far behind; Mic held a tethered toy with a little, yellow bird on it, Loud Cloud’s offering had a puffy, white cloud (of course) and Midnight swung the little red-heart at the end of hers in his direction with a wink.

He probably should have been _more_ worried when she licked her lips at him.

Hmm…

Then, all of the portions of cake dished out, the citizens having their fill of that _and_ autographs alongside pictures (heh, the trio or should he say _foursome_ (they’d dragged Ragdoll into their photos and proudly said that she was a part of their team) were lapping it up whilst the two more famous heroes took everything in their stride), 17:30 saw the ribbon cutting begin.

Dabi and Tomura, however, had chosen to sit the festivities out.

The pair had tried to apologise to him but, after wrapping them both in a hug and sending them upstairs with two bowls of their favourite, cold-soba and a promise that he’d get the café cleared out in a few hours.

At their relieved looks (both had texted him, the pair hanging out in the RPG room, their thanks) he slipped into the cat enclosure, scooped up Homura (huffing) and Jiji (grumbling) and taken them up the back-stairs (the original stairs of the former florist’s) to surprise them both with. “ _We can’t do this all of the time in case they ever got to the main stairs and found a way into kitchen_ ” he told them with a grin “ _but something tells me that they’re not fans of big crowds and lots of people, either_ ” he’d chuckled.

The boys had taken their felines, promised to look after them and hugged him in return.

Heh.

Such good kids…

And damn it all, he knew where _he’d_ rather be right now; not that he wasn’t pleased (thrilled, even) by the turn out of wonderful people who’d come to support the opening, but…

He’d never been one for fuss and, if given the opportunity then he, too, would make his way upstairs and get on with something more practical than, well? _All_ of this mingling, schmoozing and small-talk.

He wondered, from time to time, how other people made it look _so_ easy; but still, a small voice in the back of his mind reminded, he couldn’t be good at everything, could he?

“Ladies, gentleman and everyone in between~!” All Might called, his voice easily carrying across the filled eatery and its chattering patrons, the crowds’ attention going to the towering blonde; “today marks a very special opening of something the good people of this area have looked forward to for quite some time” he stated. “And I, as a fellow patron of this fine establishment, couldn’t be _more_ thrilled to be here to open this excellent addition to our beloved Noraneko Café~!” he said, the people merrily applauding him with cheers.

Ahh, thank goodness; at this rate he could just slip back behind his service bar, let the Number One Pro do what he did and…

“Now then, before we cut the ribbon, I believe that our dear Aizawa-san should say a few words, I… Eh? Shouta-kun~?! Ahh~! There you are~!”

_Why? Why God?_

Sighing, his form unable to escape as the tots (using some kind of telepathy, he was certain) rushed him together, their little hands grabbing his or pushing at his legs, the customers parting to make way for them whilst they patted him on the shoulder and clapped him on his way.

Feeling that _strange_ rush of heat flood his face once more, the eatery owner _tried_ to centre himself as he was suddenly the focus of _everyone’s_ scrutiny.

Tch, _wonderful_.

Here he was, dressed in his usual black t-shirt, jeans, apron and cap whilst, on either side of him, the two celebrity heroes looked like they were attending some kind of celebrity fuelled event.

 _Shit_.

Oh well, there was no escaping now, was there?

“As you all know” he began, his smile brightening as he looked at the people (every one of them someone he knew, someone he’d spoken to, helped and served; there was no need to worry that his gruff manner might come off the wrong way, was there?); “I’m not one to stand on ceremony” he said, many of them chuckling. “It’s thanks to your generosity, loyalty and support that broadening the Noraneko in this way was made possible” he told them, because it was the truth. “It is and always will be my pleasure to serve you and I hope, with the opening of this cat-enclosure, that you will continue to find comfort, relaxation and peace within our café” he ended with a bow, the children cheering and hugging his legs whilst the adults snapped photos and clapped. 

Then, standing next to Sir Nighteye who whispered in his ear (the feel of his warm breath upon his skin making him _tingle_ ) “ _beautifully said_ ”, they watched as All Might tore the ribbon and Tomoko greeted the first five people allowed to enter (before going to release the felines from their crates) as the children went around (in most cases politely) asking for quiet.

_Heh._

Such good kids, each of them explaining to the grinning, chuckling and nodding adults that their feline family members didn’t like loud noises whilst Mic, Cloud and Midnight giddily made their approach and entered alongside Kohaku and his salaryman friend.

All in all, he could chalk the opening up as yet another success under his belt, couldn’t he?

~*~

At 22:00, the last of his guests safely on their way home, Shouta couldn’t help his yawn (being with so many people was _far_ more exhausting than simply running his café, wasn’t it?) as he carried a few trash bags outside and made his way to the dumpster where he’d seen Dabi.

 _Dabi_ who was now upstairs, listening to music with his partner and completing a few more health and safety courses whilst Hitoshi (already tucked in bed after Tomura (who was staying the night again) had finished reading him a story) snored away in his room, the All Might night-light casting his purple room in shades of calming blue.

A more domestic scene you weren’t likely to find and soon, he grinned to himself, he’d be up there himself with a warm cup of camomile tea and a cookie…

“ _Get back here, you little freak~!!_ ”

Snapping his head away from the industrial bin he’d just thrown the bags into, Shouta was casting his gaze around the apartment complex’s courtyard, his frown darkening.

For there, running with a limp, was the person he’d spied that morning.

The kid was being chased by some of the men he’d seen leaving the two _legitimate_ pachinko parlours when he and three of his tots went for their early morning runs.

Scowling, he was moving to intercept, his booted feet skidding to a stop between the person who’d just tripped and huffed onto the concrete floor and the (God, he could smell it from here) drunken mob, then, phone in hand, he dialled for the local Pros.

He knew that they’d get here quicker than the police and, since this gang looked like they wanted trouble, it was probably better to get them here so he could see to the person panting and gasping behind him.

“Oh… _fuck me_ ” one of the taller, out of puff men sneered; “fuck off _Jesus_ , this isn’t any of your business…”

“I’m making it my business” he stated firmly; “what’re five men doing chasing someone around like a pack of wild animals?”

“Feh~! That freaky looking little shit has just _stolen_ from my…”

“I… I _didn’t_ ~!” the hoody covered teen yelped back, his body sitting up as he rubbed at his scuffed knees; “I… I can tell when the machines are gonna pay out… there’s a pattern to it, that’s all~!”

“ _You_ shut your bastard mouth, you sneaky, scaly, _ugly_ little fucker, ahh?!”

“Hey” he snapped; “there’s no need for such language” he stated gruffly: “now, am I calling the cops or…”

“ _Shit_ ” one of the other men (younger, taller, his fists turning into spiked maces) grinned; “you know what _Jesus_? I think it’s about time someone put you in your smug-prick place, you know?” he sneered, his head similarly becoming metallic and sprouting spikes. 

Sighing (because, really?), Shouta remained where he was, his form loose as the dickhead stepped forward, his cronies sniggering cruelly.

“You know what? Do-gooders like you make me sick” he ranted, his left-hand smacking into his right to make a loud (was it meant to be intimidating?) _clang_ ; “you flounce around here like you’re hot shit _changing_ things and bringing in Pros and acting like you fucking own the place” he barrelled on. “And what are you, exactly, huh? Just some shit-cook with a chip on his shoulder” he snapped; “well, allow me to knock that off for you, I… _uhh_ …”

Deciding that he’d heard enough, he allowed his eyes to bleed red before taking a few, menacing steps forward whilst the group (now _completely_ at a loss and on the verge of shitting themselves) gasped and backed away, his raven hair waving ominously in the twilight.

“Do you know what makes _me_ sick?” he asked calmly, his voice a croon; “people deciding that their quirks _suddenly_ entitle them to hurt others, _take_ from others and bully or belittle them” he mused, his legs walking at a sedate pace as they whispered to themselves in shock, fear and awe.

They were asking each other if they had any weapons, if any of them knew how to fight, if they thought they should rush him or run.

He stamped his boot a little louder on the next step, his muscular arms opening to gesture at them.

“How does it feel?” he asked, his expression completely neutral; “to be powerless? To know that you’re about to be hurt, potentially hospitalised and there’s not a _fucking_ thing you can do about it?” he pushed, a flicker of a smirk alighting his features: “is it _fun_? Does it _excite_ you? Well?! **Answer me!** ”

“N-n-nooo~!” three of them yelped; “hey… hey, look man… we, we’re s-sorry, okay?”

“Don’t apologise to _me_ ” he hissed, his body rushing at them, their screams echoing around the courtyard when he stopped only inches away, his presence having knocked two of the men on their substantial asses when they couldn’t back away quirk enough. “Apologise to that young man” he ordered; “ **now!** ”

“W-ah~! S-sorry… sorry kid~!” the pachinko-shop owner yelped, his _friends_ nodding.

“Good” he smiled, his quirk deactivating, his expression pleasant as, the * **bzz-bzz-bzz** * in his hand signalled that Loud Cloud could see the situation (they’d worked out a system after the whole _Boss-sama_ incident).

“Now all you have to do is apologise to _them_ for taking up their time” he stated as Midnight and Ragdoll landed beside him with the cloud quirk user dropping in behind the bewildered group; “and tell them _all_ about how you were threatening the life of this young man whilst being drunk and disorderly in a public space.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SSSSSSSSPPPPPPPIIIIIIIIIIIINNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNEEEEEEEEEERRRRRRRRRRRRRR~!!
> 
> It's okay boo, welcome to the League of Cafe~!
> 
> XD


	40. Broadening Horizons…

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Warnings include: parental concern, references to the treatment of minor injuries, embarrassment, scheming/plotting/planning swearing (I think) and...**
> 
> **FFFFFFFEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEELLLLLLLLLSSSSSSS~!!**

Helping the kid up, the sounds of the Pros taking details and _daring_ the men to try anything lilting over the sound of sirens on the approach, Shouta carefully guided him back to the café, the boy’s arm thrown over his shoulder; “I have a first aid kit” he told him. “I can take a look at you before the paramedics arrive, if you like?”

“Y-you… you’re not scared that my b-blood will… contaminate you, or something?” the teen (around Dabi and Tomura’s age) laughed out bitterly, his green face looking up at him with the jaded expression of someone who’d been beaten down and bullied just because of his appearance.

God.

It made him angry.

“Why? Are you ill?”

“T-tch… _no_ …”

“Then there’s no problem, is there?” he smiled; “I’m Aizawa Shouta and this” he said with a nod as they made it to the door: “is the Noraneko Café” he introduced. “I’m a Level 7 Childminder and Self-Defence Instructor” he furthered whilst shouldering open the door, the little, cat-eared bell * **ding-dinging** * in their wake; “and you’re _always_ welcome to come here, alright?”

Blinking at him, those dark eyes widening, the teenager shuddered a little as he was eased into the first booth, his body curled over the table self-consciously.

His posture was just like that of Dabi and Tomura when they’d first arrived in his eatery, wasn’t it?

God damn everything; wasn’t just being a teen difficult enough? Weren’t _80%_ of the global population now registered as quirk users? Hell… quirks had been around for five generations by now; _why_ were people still so vain and appearance orientated?

Tch, it wasn’t as though this young man had _chosen_ his power or how it would manifest, had he?

Heh, to quote Tomura…

 _Most people were idiots_ …

But still, now that the kid was here, maybe… just maybe there’d be something he could do to help him and, just like all of the younger people he’d come to know and support, that help started off with a question:

“Now then, would you like a drink? Something to eat?”

Watching as the boy continued to hide behind his hood, he let out a shuddering sigh as he deflated; “my old man is gonna be _so_ mad at me for sneaking out… _again_ ” he huffed grumpily: “I… I’m supposed to be in my room” he added as the police and a Paramedic First-Response car pulled up.

“I see” he said, his expression sympathetic; “may I ask why you were out and about?”

“Tch… well, look at me” he hissed, green hands pulling the hood down roughly, his pinked hair flopping down to surround a broody expression _full_ of vindication. “When it’s dark… when it’s _dark_ , people don’t see me as clearly so… I climb out of my bedroom window and, well, walk or head to the arcade, you know? I do stuff that _normal_ people do” he huffed, their gazes locked.

He was _daring_ him to look away.

“B-but… but it… it doesn’t matter _that much_ ” he ground out; “I’m not wanted anywhere… I’m just… tch, well, you heard those dickheads, didn’t you?”

“Those dickheads” he nodded; “are a bunch of drunk, stupid, small-minded idiots” he told him: “anyone who judges a person purely on what they look like is” he assured, his arms crossing. “You were stood across the road earlier today, weren’t you?” he asked, his expression kind whilst Ragdoll approached the medics and started to lead them to the door; “why didn’t you come in?”

“T-too many people” he mumbled, his shoulders shrugging as, with a thud, the service bar door flew open to reveal Dabi and Tomura, their eyes wild until they locked gazes with him whilst, at virtually the same time, the eatery’s entry opened with another, merry * **ding-ding** *.

“Hello” he greeted the uniformed women with a bow; “this young man is your patient” he offered before inclining his head at Tomoko who gave him a thumbs up.

“Ahh… thank you, Aizawa-san” the charcoal-skinned woman at the fore grinned, her smile reassuring as she plonked her medical-bag onto the desk and started to root around in it whilst the bigger, burlier, multi-armed woman stood behind the slumped teenager, her four hands manipulating a tablet she was writing on.

Stepping away and allowing the two to access the injured boy, the shorter female asking him a few, quiet questions as she shone a light in the other’s eyes, Shouta leaned against the bar as his boys approached.

“ _How_ did you manage to go outside, take out the trash, and end up with the police being here, cat-dad?” the decay quirk user huffed, his eyes rolling fondly whilst his partner shook his head with a laugh-snort.

“I’m just lucky, I guess” he snickered, his eyes carefully appraising as the lizard-quirked teenager was checked over by the kindly healers, one of those fancy, new mist-sprays ghosting over his scaly flesh to ease the swelling of some bruises.

“So, who’s this guy?”

“Someone who was being chased by those jokers over on Ichi-street” he stated, his eyes narrowed out of the café door’s window after Tomoko left with a wave; “they’ve given me a new nickname” he reported mildly.

“Oh?” Dabi grinned; “do tell?”

“ _Jesus_ ” he snickered, his hands clapping together in prayer; “may peace be with them as they sober up in holding cells.”

Chuckling loudly, one of the paramedics letting out a giggle before blushing and looking away, Shouta was pleased to see that the boy he’d helped was also cracking a grin; “and speaking of names” he said a little louder: “what’s yours, kid?”

“Iguchi Shuichi” he replied with a little bow; “but… _they’ll_ probably know me as Spinner” he said, his lips trying to push his smile a little wider: “ano… you’re HellFire and DeathTouch, right?”

Watching as his boys baulked, the eatery owner cocked his right brow at scaly-boy with a smirk; “ahh… so _that’s_ why you were here earlier, huh?” he mused: “see? I told you that someone capable of beating your best scores would decipher any coded message that you left them on that server, didn’t I?”

Sharing a look, the partners leaned onto the bench, their smirks menacing; “we demand a rematch on Skull Slayer VII” Tomura stated firmly, the glint in his crimson eyes causing Shuichi to blink, his features becoming… _hopeful_?

“You… you’re not bothered by” he said with a vague gesture to himself, the older of the two paramedics huffing at him as she leaned her muscular form against the booth.

“Oi, that kind of boxed in thinking is toxic, you know?” she told him, her fours eyes regarding him critically; “you’re at the start of your life, Iguchi-kun, so you _definitely_ shouldn’t allow other people’s narrow-mindedness to stop your from living your life” she huffed, her four arms crossing. “I’m a _spider_ , kid” she added; “d’you think that I let other people’s silly phobias and prejudices that stop _me_ from training or doing the job I do, hmm?”

Watching as the green-skinned youngster looked from her to the shimmering visage of the other woman and then back to him and his teens, Shouta nodded at him; “and although doing something about societies views overall is something that’s going to take time” he acknowledged. “You are very welcome here, okay?”

~*~

Sending the women on their way (with a cake to share with the grateful police officers who waved at him through the bay-windows; Tsuragamae-san seemed true to his word about stepping up his care of this area, didn’t he?), the three stayed with the geko-quirked boy (Hitoshi still snoozing away upstairs) until his father could drive by to collect him.

Dabi and Tomura had shown him around (they’d shared a laugh over the _dinosaur console_ before _Spinner_ had extolled the virtues of the system and offered to bring some games he had for it by), they’d all enjoyed a few cookies (“ _whoa… that is **amazing**_!”) and soon, the teens were yacking away like old friends.

Heh.

Small mercies.

And, when Iguchi-san appeared, his similarly green (not quite as scaly, his features a little more anthropological) fear-stricken face ogling the eatery before he’d slowed by the windows, peered in, blinked and made a more sedate approach to the door which, to his continued surprise, opened with a * **ding** *.

“Hello and welcome to the Noraneko” he greeted with a bow; “Shuichi is fine and you’ll find him just down there” he advised, the teens all sat on the beanbags and discussing, animatedly, their preferred RPG strategies, cheat-codes and favourite _skins_.

Whatever _that_ meant.

“I… I _see_ ” the deep-purpled haired man breathed, his form still bewildered (but decidedly pleased); “you… you’re Aizawa-san, right?”

“Yes sir” he replied with a polite incline of his head.

Sagging with relief, those pearlescent eyes still fixed, disbelievingly, upon his child who was laughing and gesturing wildly at his phone, the man (no doubt thinking the worst when the constable had called him to report that his child has been involved in an attempted mugging) approached the service bar with a deep, heavy sigh.

“Thank you very much for saving my son” he stated suddenly; “the police told me that you’d stepped in because he was being chased… again” he breathed, an anxious hand grabbing at his button-down shirt: “and I… well, one of these days he… he could…”

“Would you like to sit down?” he offered; “I can make you some tea, free of charge, if you like?”

“I… thank you but, his mother is beside herself, you know?” he chuffed, his tone astonished and relieved; “but please, here, have my business card” he said, his hands now jamming into his trouser pockets: “I… _we_ would really like to thank you, for…”

“Please, Iguchi-san, I will happily take your card and thank you for it” he smiled; “but no further thanks is necessary” he allowed, the other’s skin flushing a deeper, perplexed green: “you, your partner and child are always welcome here” he nodded. “And, from the looks of things? My kids will be _more_ than happy to keep him entertained” he chuckled; “there’s been some kind of video-game based rivalry happening between them for a while, I think” he snickered.

“I… you… you would” the taller, thinner man tried; “that… you’re sure? You… you mean it?”

“I’m not in the habit of saying things that I don’t mean” he told him with a little shrug; “we’re open six days a week and I run a study-space in the afternoons, as well” he informed: “the food is pretty good and I don’t believe in over-charging people” he furthered. “So please… should your son, you or any member of your family like to join us, then do” he offered and, when the other looked like he was about to say something else…

“O-oh… ugh, _h-hey_ , Pops… umm… _sorry_? I…”

Snapping his mouth shut, the older man was scrambling to where the hoodied teen was sheepishly stood, those long arms wrapping about him and pulling his close; “Shuichi~! You could have been hurt or… or worse~!” he stated whilst pulling away, those long, sucker-tipped fingers then grabbing him by the cheek. “Do you have _**ANY**_ idea how worried your mother is~?!”

“ _Mm-sorry-Pops… **honest**_ ” he tried, an embarrassed blush staining his face as the tightly pinching fingers _finally_ let go; “I just… _cabin fever_ , you know?”

Chuffing, those milky eyes softening a touch, the taller man pulled him into another hug; “you’re safe, that’s all that matters” he agreed: “ _however_ , we’re going to have another _talk_ alright?” he grumped before regarding the other teens. “Thank you for your time” he acknowledged before offering a deep, formal bow; “and, if it’s not an inconvenience? I would ask if you’d be so kind as to speak with my boy again…”

“ _Wah~! P-pops~! You’re e-embarrassing me~!_ ” the gecko-quirked boy hissed, his face now smothered with red whilst his arms flailed about abortively.

Sharing a chuckle, both Dabi and Tomura nodded; “we’re more than happy to speak with him again, _especially_ if he brings some games for us to play with next time” the burn-scarred boy grinned whilst his partner snickered. “And hey… we’ve swapped numbers so… if you wanna meet us half way, somewhere, then we’ll walk you here, you know?”

“Y-you… you are most kind and a credit to your father, Aizawa-kun, thank you” the tall, gangly parent stated with another bow, his platitude causing the turquoise eyed youth to blink, his cheeks pinking a little whilst Tomura _actually_ giggled out a “ _A-Aizawa-kun… oh… that… **that’s** your name now~!_”

Rubbing the back of his neck, the secret Todoroki made the mistake of looking back to where Shouta was watching him.

When the raven-haired man mouthed “ _Aizawa-kun_ ” back at him with a wink and a nod, he’d sputtered and blushed _just_ as darkly as Shuichi whilst the shorter teen, now _completely_ unable to stop himself, peeled out curls of laughter that had both lizard men blinking and Dabi letting out a chuckled-huff.

All things considered… there were _worse_ names to be called, weren’t there?

~*~

As the week rolled by Kayama Nemuri was starting to have _way_ too much fun with whole _dating-scheme_ she’d whipped up; she was _very_ interested in their gruff, little eatery owner, of course, however not in the way that they all thought she was.

It was… _refreshing_ to meet a man who didn’t want to paw all over her or make demands because her extroverted sexuality. Sadly, most Pros she met, outside of her team-mates, _always_ brought up how her love of exhibitionism had led to an _actual_ change in the law as though it was something scandalous or something be ashamed of. Whilst the majority of civilians saw her as a novelty; the demisexual, sadistic side of her (that she couldn’t help, it’s who she was and she was _proud_ of it, God damn it all!) was often paraded around the press as a point of fun.

People didn’t tend to take her seriously when it came to love or relationships and, if she was perfectly honest? She was getting a little tired of it all and so, why not play up to cameras? Why not pretend like she was untouchable? _Why not_ lead men and women on, get them excited then drop them when by asking such basic questions as “what do you like most about me as a person?” or “when should we get married?” or “you can see me as the mother of your children, right?”

Then _poof_ , suddenly they were gone…

 _Suddenly_ playing around with her got _too real_ and off they’d go…

Shouta… was different.

He ignored her coy remarks, lewd gestures, obvious flirtations and, instead?

He’d brought her a slice of cake (a _delicious_ apple-cinnamon concoction sprinkled with toasted almonds and a dollop of cream) one Saturday night when she’d been sat in his café alone (Hizashi was at his radio-show and Oboro had gone to visit his mother) and asked if she wanted to talk.

They’d sat there for a good half an hour, Dabi very kindly seeing to the few, late night MU customers whilst they’d laughed, _genuinely_ , about everything and nothing at all.

And in one, thirty-minute block, he’d _somehow_ managed to chase her blues away and suggested that she take up dancing lessons as a hobby to give her something to enjoy outside of Pro Hero work.

He’d even offered to take her if she had no one else to go with.

How the man (as quiet, diligent and hard-working as he was) could take one look at her and suggest an activity that she’d _never_ even thought about but had _fallen in love with_ was still a mystery and now?

Well, she couldn’t help but want to return the favour even though she had a sneaking suspicion that he was gay (he’d become _awfully_ flustered when she’d _accidentally_ launched him into the Number One Pro and she’d seen him eyeing her team-mates appreciatively). Or, given his self-admitted ignorance of such things, Ace or aromantic; not that that could or _would_ stop him from dating and having a relationship with anyone so long as they knew and understood what his boundaries were.

Hmm…

She’d be _more_ than happy to make them aware, if not; she wasn’t the R-Rated hero for no reason, was she?

Ahh~!

She hoped that it wouldn’t come to that though; all she wished for any of them (herself included) was happiness and, if such happiness could be found in a relationship, regardless of what that looked like, she would _love_ to be an instrument in bringing it about, of course~! 

And, from the way in which her two best friends, Sir Nighteye and All Might had been becoming _increasingly_ involved in the plans she was making, she just knew that they felt the same~!

_Hora-hora~!_

Who’d have thought that she’d be surrounded by so many incredible, gay-icons?

Gay icons who, as it turned out, included Shiretoko Tomoko whom, when she’d told her _all_ about their little, friendly (competition wasn’t the right word, was it?) attempts at broadening Shouta’s horizons had looked slightly… crestfallen?

She’d asked (half suspecting that the emerald haired beauty was similarly interested in their stubborn, raven-haired love-interest) if she was alright and the girl’s cheeks had pinked as she’d hesitantly replied that she’d thought that the scheme was _cute_ , that was all.

Hee-hee~! 

She was hoping, however, that the young woman (who’d confessed to being a lesbian; her sexuality was one of the reasons why she’d had _such_ a bad time at that stupid, stuck-up, Western school) _might_ be open to, potentially, going on a date with her after she’d treated everyone’s favourite _cat-dad_ to fun-filled evening.

And speaking of which, with the date she’d be taking him on drawing ever closer, she was finding herself _more_ entertained by her rivals sneaky-tactics, information-gathering-skills and not-so-subtle questions, than anything else…

Oh yes~!

So far she’d had five texts from Sir Nighteye (“please let me know if you have difficulty getting access to anywhere you’d like to go”, “do you require transportation?”, “I have tables pre-booked at several, fine restaurants if you’d like to take one?”), her Pro Team kept trying to wheedle details out of her and All Might, the big lug, was messaging her every other day.

“ _Do you need any help making reservations? Can I help you in anyway? Would you like to borrow a car? I can provide a chauffeur if you need one, if you like? I’m not texting you too much, am I? Have I told you what a wonderful idea I think this was~?!_ ”

Wah~!

He was _such_ a sweetheart; ahh and perhaps the _most_ smitten out of all the men (she had a sneaking suspicion that his side-kick, who’d never been seen with a partner (romantic or otherwise) was also out playing _wing-man_ for him) even if Oboro and Hizashi _were_ all starry eyed when they saw their wonderful eatery-owner.

However… she was _pretty_ certain that the older man (only by ten years, give or take) would make the better fit for their Shou _if_ he was inclined to such things.

Something was telling her that the power-house would dote on him in the way that he deserved _without_ getting in his way too much.

And hell, if he dated either of her best friends then the pair would no doubt become lovable nuisances who’d probably get under the café owner’s feet because, well?

He might be physically younger than them _but_ there was no disputing who the epitome of maturity and responsibility was out of all of them, was there?

 _God_ …

She wouldn’t trust any of them (herself included; Tomo-chan not withstanding because she was such a big-hearted, caring, nurturing sweetheart herself) to babysit Dabi (huffy but open to chat) or Tomura (quiet and reserved; he… _tried_ to hide it but she could tell that the kid _wasn’t_ a fan) for even an hour.

Damn… the café would probably burn down and it’d be through _no fault_ of the flame quirk user’s, either…

Shuddering (that kind of responsibility could wait, thank you; she was a twenty-three-year-old woman with her whole life ahead of her and, as much as she would _genuinely_ love to have or adopt (Shouta had inspired her) children one day, _that_ was a day in the future), Nemuri flopped onto her bed with a sigh, phone in hand.

Then, Sushi (the adorable cat he was; hmm… she’d have to ask about him getting to visit the café’s latest residents, wouldn’t she?) padding over the sheets to nest in her hair, the Pro hero flicked through her contacts, found the number she was looking for and started a call.

“Mushi-mushi? Zo-chan’s Dance Studio? How may I help you today?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next stop...
> 
> Denki/Hitoshi's birthday AND Shouta's first date~!
> 
> XD


	41. Happy Birthday~!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Warnings include: a smidge of angst (just a smidge, I swear~!), swearing and...**
> 
> **FFFFFFFFFFEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEELLLLLLLSSSSS~!!**
> 
> **Like so, SO many~!**
> 
> Y'all might wanna brush your teeth after reading... the fluff be tooth-rotting, I tells ya~!
> 
> ;_;

After a week filled with its usual shenanigans (Katsuki had won his school’s shot-put and 500metre run whilst Izuku had achieved gold for the 100 and 200metre sprint; both were elated, _both_ had proudly held out their medals for the others to preen over: he’d taken their photo, arms slung over each other’s’ shoulders, smiles jubilant) and laughter.

Spinner (as he preferred to be called), had come by every other afternoon to play games (and talk shit) with the teens and, wonderful as it was, he’d made a real impression on Tsuyu who he’d taken a shine to straight away; “ _damn… look at her, laughing, smiling and loving who she is… it’s inspirational, you know? She gives me hope for my lil sister_ ”.

Tsuyu, in turn, preened under his praise of her; he’d promised to join the next self-defence lesson and wanted to practise with her and Ochaco whom he’d similarly been impressed by; his younger sister (only ten months old) was a little too young to visit without her mother, just yet, however Spinner had been beyond pleased by the girls cooing over pictures of her.

He could hardly wait to bring his mother (busily working in the business she and his father had built from nothing whilst nurturing her baby) and the tailed infant for a visit and had been blown away when the other little boys had told him how “cute~!” they thought she was.

Izuku, of course, had been leading the approval, his emerald eye glinting enchantedly as he’d told the teen about all the many, many ways in which her prehensile-tail could be used, how she could become an amazing person capable of great things as a Pro Hero or anything else that she wanted to be.

He’d told him, too, of course, that his ability to climb all over walls was “ _super amazing~! Imagine all of the places that you could go that others couldn’t?! I think you’d make a fantastic fire-fighter if you didn’t want to go down the hero-route, Spinner-nii~! Wah~! Well, that is if you, Dabi-nii and Tomu-nii don’t start up your own video game company~!_ ”

God bless that adorable, big-hearted tot and his wonderful brain…

Furthermore, the cat-café had proved to be a roaring success; the MU students melted beneath the feline attention, the study group endeavoured to produce the best work they could at a faster rate _just_ to get in there and, by the end of the week?

Every cat had at least _two_ official sponsors helping to pay their way and Tomoko, her smiles more genuine and manner more relaxed, had _really_ taken to café life, too.

The regular customers adored her, the middle-school girls fawned over her costume and begged for selfies and, in terms of someone who would look after and tend to the cats’ every need when he, Dabi and Tomura were busy, well?

He couldn’t have asked for anyone better.

Then, with Saturday came the mounting excitement for Histoshi and Denki’s shared birthday party on Sunday; the iris haired boy had spoken to his mother on the video-call-app that her Detention House used and, despite the tears he knew she was concealing, she’d praised all of the wonderful things he’d been doing and told him “ _to have the best time, ever, okay~?!_ ”

God…

It was _so_ wrong that she couldn’t be with them to celebrate the boy’s big-day; however, in the final five minutes of the call, he’d been able to quickly talk with her whilst the Tomura took the soon to be seven-year-old down the back-stairs and into the cat-maintenance room to help Tomoko groom Hime whilst Dabi oversaw the quiet café.

“ _Shouta… I can’t tell you how **wonderful** it is to see him smile like that_” she’d breathed, those lustrous eyes more alive now than he’d ever remembered seeing them; “ _as his mother… you can’t know what that means to me_ ” she’d said as though he’d done something spectacular.

All he could do, all he _would_ do, was love the kid like he deserved to be loved whilst they waited for her.

_Shit._

They weren’t even a month into her ridiculous sentence yet, were they?

Then, the call ended, he’d gone into his room to finish wrapping the presents (four of which had already been flashily covered, the gift tags for both Hitoshi and Denki reading that they were from Dabi-nii and Tomu-nii; heh, such good kids) before heading down to give the flame quirk user his break.

However, when he entered the service bar area (after a quick spot-check around his kitchen; cleanliness was something you could _never_ forget about) he found his lodger glaring out of the bay windows as a group of men approached.

“Tch… looks like that dog-headed prick has finally decided to pay us a visit, huh?” the teen murmured as they caught sight of the three Police Force officers in between the customers sat outside, their forms partially visible between the bright flashes of the flapping, red-yellow parasols that were shifting in the breeze.

“Heh, so it seems” he murmured; “Tomura and Hitoshi are with Tomoko” he told him, his smile fond: “why don’t you head on back there and see if Homura needs a brushing?” he offered.

“You sure?” the younger man asked, his arms folded staunchly; “if they’re here to beg favours or give us any more bad news, then…”

“I’ll take care of it” he assured fondly, his hand plucking out and waving his phone at the youth; “I’ll text you if I need them escorted off the premises” he added with a wink, the other huffing at him before he rolled his eyes and left the service bar area, his hands throwing a friendly wave at Mimi-chan and the girls as he walked past them.

* **Ding-ding~!** *

Looking to the door (his brain stalled for a nano-second, though, for one of the men he… his… his _head_ was a… a _cat_ ; wow) Shouta regarded Tsuragamae Kenji with a slight bow; “welcome to the Noraneko Café” he greeted: “what can I get you?”

Smiling and nodding in turn (dear God… the cat-headed man had a _bell_ … a _bell_ on his uniform’s collar instead of a tie; _adorable_ ), the beagle-featured Lieutenant looked back at the two people behind him whilst gesturing to each, in turn. “Aizawa-san” he stated; “these are two of my finest rookies” he offered: “Tamakawa Sansa is a superb junior officer and Tsukauchi Naomasa is on a fast-track course to becoming a detective” he furthered pleasantly. “I am hoping, to ensure their success, that we could potentially hire your expert services?”

Ahh…

Yes, now that he remembered, the senior of the three _had_ asked about tutoring for some of his men in martial-arts, hadn’t he?

“I see” he alighted; “and by services, you would like private tuition?” he asked: “my Sundays are becoming increasingly busy” he furthered, his eyes looking down at his schedule. “However, depending on what you’d like me to teach, what time frame we’re working with and any accreditation you wanted them to have” he mused. “I can start working with them from next Sunday, starting at 15:00 and finishing at 16:30 to give me half an hour before my first adult class starts” he added, a pencil quickly sketching in slots upon the calendar he kept on the shelf beneath the bar.

“Is that agreeable, or…”

Looking back up, Shouta felt his right brow cocking as the gruff, trench-coat wearer (damn; wasn’t he too hot, in that?) regarded him bewilderedly, his younger friends (closer to his age; wow… he wondered is Tamakawa’s fur was as soft as it looked?) doing the same, he stood a little straighter. “If you were expecting to begin tomorrow, then…”

“A-Ah, no… _Aizawa-san_ I… _forgive me_ ” Tsuragamae-san breathed with a bow (which was mirrored by his associates, a few of his regular, Saturday crowd looking on in interest); “I… I hadn’t thought that you’d be so, well… agreeable?” he furthered.

Folding his arms, his expression imperious, the café owner _somehow_ stopped himself from rolling his eyes; “you asked me if it was possible and it is” he stated: “so, does that time and date work for you?”

“I will make sure that it does, Aizawa-san, thank you” the Lieutenant nodded, his nose twitching slightly whilst his ears perked; “ahh… so you’ve been able to open your cat-café, Aizawa-san? Congratulations” he furthered.

“Thank you” he replied; “would any of you like anything to eat or drink?” he pushed (and no, it wasn’t because he wanted to entice the cat-featured man to stay, he wasn’t that interesting or… _cute_ ; God damn it… seeing Tomoko lose her mind over him _wasn’t_ something he wanted to watch, either).

“It… it is _awfully_ hot outside, sir” the similarly raven-haired man smiled; “ano… All Might-o _did_ say that we shouldn’t come by and _not_ try the lemonade, didn’t he?” he grinned, the tabby-cat quirked man nodding enthusiastically with a wide, pleading smile.

Dear God…

His neck-bell had _jangled_!

Hmm… the guy was probably too old to be unofficially, officially adopted, wasn’t he?

His look just _screamed_ café mascot, though…

Hmm…

“Heh, very well then” their leader chuckled; “since I’m pushing you youngsters so hard, I should treat you every so often, shouldn’t I?” he mused whilst reaching for his wallet, his gaze looking up at the chalk-board menu overhead, his eyes widening: “heh… and this lunch won’t exactly break the bank now, will it?”

~*~

Gently guiding a comb through Homura’s soft fur to eek out any loose strands, Dabi looked through the maintenance room’s window to see Hitoshi and Tomura sat at the back of the enclosure, the Bombay kittens dancing around the toys they offered whilst Jiji slept in his favourite place.

Then, his eyes shifting to Tomoko (who was pretty cool… for a wannabe Pro Hero) who was talking to a group of middle-schoolers who were sat in the enclosure, their gentle touches soothing a freshly brushed Hime whilst Red Riot and the other kittens launched themselves around their shelves-based, high-up playground.

Hahahue, however, was curled next to Homura, her tongue giving his sealed-up eye a clean.

Heh, the more he looked at them, the more he saw resemblances between himself and Shou; not that his employer would _ever_ lick him (“ _what an illogical thought_ ”) _but_ even though Hitoshi (so much younger) and Tomura (even more isolated than him in many ways) were sharing his time with the man, he…

Shouta _always_ checked in with him, talked to him, _valued_ what he thought and felt, he…

He’d not cast him to the wayside when someone younger and more _deserving_ of his attention had appeared, he…

* **Bzz-bzz-bzz** *

Blinking, his turquoise eyes moving to his phone (the one his unofficially official guardian had bought for him; _bankruptcy_ , he knew it was coming), Dabi looked down at the message.

AS: “you’re getting a new big brother…”

Eh?

It wasn’t like the older man to send such a strange, _oddly_ direct, message was it?

AS: “or… uncle?”

What?

AS: “ _cat_ -nii?”

D: “umm, are you… okay?”

AS: “where are you?”

D: “in the back… why?”

AS: “can you see the enclosure?”

Humming, the flame quirk user looked through the (mostly) sound-proof chamber’s main door’s viewing window, his eyes widening.

D: “ahh…” he typed back, a laugh bubbling up and out of him as several, _amazing_ things happened all at once.

Tomoko (heh, the poor guy hadn’t stood a chance) had launched herself at a man dressed as a Police Force Officer (because, like Midnight and some of the tots, she didn’t know what personal-space was), her body flitting around him whilst asking questions that he couldn’t hear _but_ had the tabby blushing.

In the enclosure, Hitoshi was baulking whilst Tomura (‘ _that’s my man_ ’) was secretly filming the whole thing, his grin shit-eating whilst the kittens, clearly sensing one of the own, started to descend upon the man from their shelf-based playground, his form bewilderedly frozen in place whilst the felines and Ragdoll daubed him with attention.

Shouta, and the other two officers, however, were stood (snickering) near a tittering Knitting-Nook both; the posse of older ladies looked like they were _completely_ enamoured by the cop, too.

Tch, it was a shame that he was in such a shitty profession, wasn’t it?

D: “why’re they here?”

AS: “self-defence lessons… these two are on a fast-track… or something” he wrote back, a little shrugging emoji following before…

*AS changed D’s name in the chat: D = Aizawa Dabi (AD)*

AS: “Heh, too much?”

Blinking, his cheeks pinking a touch, Dabi typed back: “no… no, that’s good… thanks.”

~*~

Waving the Police Force off and on their way with a (he’d not said it aloud for fear of causing offense; he’d shared his thoughts with the teens, though, and laugh-snorted into their yakisoba) _doggy-bag_ of cookies and promises to be in touch regarding regular sessions…

“ _Aizawa-san, please… that fee is unreasonable…_ ”

“ _That’s what all of the adults pay…_ ”

“ _B-but… we’re asking for special treatment, you’re giving us extra time, please… if we’d approached anyone else, why, they’d be charging ten times as much as what you’re asking…_ ”

the rest of the afternoon ambled on by pleasantly enough.

Denki (who was celebrating his actual birthday with his family today) was sending them all pictures of his antics and, if he’d been quietly pleased when the boy had photographed the store-bought cake his uncle had gotten for him (dry-sponge, scant filling, tacky fondant) and captioned it with “ _this is kind’a icky compared to yours, Shou-nii~!_ 😊”, then he’d not let it show.

Spinner, pleasantly enough, had come by (he wouldn’t be able to make the tots’ birthdays tomorrow _but_ he’d sneaked him a little bag “ _it’s nothing big but… kids still like key-chains, right?_ ”; he’d assured them that anything would be gratefully received and had promised to take pictures of them with the gifts, too) and enjoyed a few games with the other teens.

It was wonderful to see the three of them together, each still hurting in their own way but, even after a week of companionship, he could see a difference in all of them.

A _positive_ difference.

Then, towards the evening, Bubble-Girl came by with a few brightly coloured bags containing gifts (he’d told both Sir Nighteye and All Might _not_ to go overboard; he was glad that they’d listened: he could see the tell-tale, blonde-rabbit ears of the Number 1’s plush-toys from here) and a few cards she and her fellow sidekick had signed for them.

The local Pros swung by, too, to pick up Tomoko for patrol (she didn’t work Saturdays, however, she was more likely to be found in their café either tending to the cats, helping him with orders and wheedling her way into Tomura and Dabi’s affections; she’d _already_ won over the tots, of course) with Midnight whispering to him as she left.

“ _I can hardly **wait** for tomorrow night, can you~?!_”

Rolling his eyes fondly at her as she winked and him, he felt himself ruefully shaking his head and going back to wiping down tables.

A little voice in the back of his head was flagging up that his teens, all crowded in the front booth, were talking about _shovels_ and that he should be concerned about it.

Humming to himself before shrugging it off (perhaps Mimi-chan had asked them to help maintain flower-beds, or something?), Shouta had then gone to grab his mop-bucket so that he could do his _favourite_ task.

_Tch._

Double the toilets, he’d failed to realise at the time, meant double the cleaning, didn’t it?

 _Wonderful_.

~*~

Tucking Hitoshi into bed that night (Tomura and Dabi were in the decay quirk user’s room, the café was locked up tight and the security-system was silently doing its job, the CCTV diligently keeping watch), the tot only needing a light-cotton sheet thanks to the room’s aircon, Shouta finished off the story they’d been reading with a smile.

“Shou-nii?”

“Mm?”

“I… I think I’ve changed my mind about, you know, becoming a hero?” the iris haired child murmured, those dark eyes (no longer rimmed with dark circles) looking up at him.

“Oh?” he smiled softly; “care to share?” he asked.

“I…” the tot breathed, his expression a little pensive; “I… I’m not sure if I’m… you know… smart enough?”

“Toshi” he said softly, deft fingers running through that soft, wavy-hair; “you’re one of the smartest, bravest, most capable people I know” he stated: “and you _know_ that I’m not in the habit of saying things that I don’t mean, right?” he assured. “Whatever it is you want to be, you’ll be able to do it because you’re _you_ , you’re _incredible_ and we, our community, friends and family, well? We’ll all be rooting for you every step of the way and helping you when you need us, alright?”

Nodding, his little face becoming determined, the child looked at him; “I… I want to be a lawyer” he said firmly: “an… and not one of the ones who d-does it for money… I… I wanna become someone who can change things, for the better, like you do” he said, his tone laced with conviction. “I wanna be someone who’ll help people like… like my mom and… and fight to make the laws fairer and… and lawyers are allowed to use their quirks, right?” he asked; “then… then I… I can _use_ it to get to the truth… to stop bad people from getting away with lying, can’t I?”

Blinking at the child, his arms reaching for him before he could stop himself, Shouta scooped the boy into his arms and held him when he sniffled.

“Hitoshi” he murmured; “that… that is a _wonderful_ ambition to have” he told him, his smile broadening: “I think that you’ll make an _excellent_ lawyer” he praised. “I think that you’d be a force to be reckoned with and far, _far_ more powerful than even All Might when it comes to the criminal underworld with” he chuckled, the boy laughing too.

“Just… promise me one thing, alright?”

“A-anything, Shou-nii” he replied, his tone a little shaky.

“Keep training with me” he murmured; “the path you want to walk will be a difficult one” he told him quietly: “and… I want to make sure that you can look after yourself, okay? Because, when you’re old enough to realise your new dream… when you become someone who is going to make such amazing changes… those changes will not be loved by everyone” he said quietly. “So, please let me help you to help yourself, alright?”

“I… I will Shou-nii” the other breathed; “I… I’ll make you and… and mom so proud of me…”

“Oh Toshi” he said into the boy’s hair; “we are already _so_ proud of you… and we will _always_ be proud of you, no matter what, okay?”

~*~

When Sunday morning arrived, he’d slipped out of bed at his usual time (checked on Hitoshi (fast-asleep; teddy bear cuddled), his teens (very carefully; he didn’t want to be intrusive); they were passed out on Tomura’s futon, Dabi curled around his partner as they slept) and, instead of his run, he’d gone to set up the _water park_.

The cakes (Denki’s favourite chocolate with an extravagant, whipped Nutella-filling, chopped up cashew-nuts, raspberries and Chantilly cream as opposed to Hitoshi’s light, sprinkle-baked in cake with vanilla butter-cream, strawberry-compote filling and freshly-whipped cream accented with lavender and honey) were ready to go.

He’d piped the boys’ names atop each in their favourite colours (gold for Denki, blue for Hitoshi), dotted them with sugared, edible flowers (he had a selection of candles and sparklers purposefully set to one side; he’d seen such things online and was sure that they’d enjoy the spectacle) and left them in the chiller, ready for when the party would start at 10:00.

They’d scheduled the festivities to run from then until 15:00 then, the adults all having agreed to attend earlier self-defence classes, he’d have from 18:30 to get ready for his date; he was being picked up at 19:00.

He’d told Midnight (and he hoped it’d come across kindly) that he couldn’t be out past 23:00; Inko, that sweetheart, had agreed to Hitoshi having a sleepover at her house with Izuku _but_ , on top of having work the next morning, he didn’t want to be out too late in case his teenagers needed him.

He’d not told her as much; however, with a kind, endearing smile she’d told him, unequivocally, that she just wanted to give him a good time _without_ keeping him away from his family.

Heh.

She was a wonderful woman, wasn’t she?

~*~

“ _Happy Birthday Hitoshi~!!_ ”

They’d eaten breakfast, together, in the cat enclosure; the felines had enjoyed a good play, Hahaue had marshalled the kittens when they’d tried to dive after food and Jiji, in an uncharacteristic display of affection to someone other than Tomura, had plonked himself into his lap and nuzzled his way under his t-shirt.

The teens and their youngest family member had found it hilarious.

 _He_ had thought it was adorable, his stilted laughter loosed when the old feline’s whiskers tickled against his side as he’d curled in for a nap.

Then, their gifts given…

“ _Wah~! Tomu-nii, Dabi-nii~! Thank you~! These sunglasses are _so_ cool and I LOVE these t-shirts~! They’re _awesome_ ~! Can I wear one today, please?_”

“ _Aren’t you and Denki wearing matching shirts today?_ ”

“ _I can change out of this one when he gets here, can’t I?_ ”

he’d watched the boy fawn over the games he’d gotten for him (“ _we gotta play this during the party~! I’ve _always_ wanted to try Dungeons and Dragons, Shou-nii~! Thank you~!!_”) and they had all received plenty of hugs.

Then, when 10:00 arrived, the other tots had descended upon them in their shirt and short covered swim-wear, their joyous forms flinging into the pools, shooting each other with their water pistols and their parents, elated, had watched their antics with pleased smiles and happy laughter.

At 12:00, the cakes had been brought out, the _birthday-boys_ were decked in their “best-birthday-bros” wear and everyone had enjoyed watching them blow out the candles, gush over the sparklers (lit a’la Dabi) and carve out their first pieces of their desserts with pleased grins.

This, of course; led to even more present opening; together, the parents and guardians had spoiled the little boys rotten with all kind of gifts, praise and hugs.

The cats had been _more_ than happy to indulge in the attention, the tots had similarly been throwing themselves back outside to plunge into the pools or dance under the hoses and, really? He couldn’t have imagined a more perfect day for them.

And Denki, in a quieter moment, had approached him, asked for a hug and told him that “ _I… I know that I’m real lucky, Shou-nii, to have my mom and dad but… I think the luckiest thing to happen to me was to come here, meet my best friends and meet you, too_.”

Somehow, he’d fought back the tears threatening to prickle his lashes.

Then, the end of the party drawing nearer, he’d waved off Ochaco (her father had embraced him firmly; Nedzu had been true to his word: he was starting a new, construction-based job for the animal-quirked man’s school next week with Gin-san, their money troubles were over, his wife elated) after ruffling her hair.

Tsuyu had left next, her father elated at her having had another, wonderful memory to treasure.

Then Eijiro and Katsuki, thick as thieves, rushed his legs with twin hugs, thanked him for such a good time and said “ _we want a party _just_ like this next year, Shou-nii~!_” before they and their mothers had left.

Izuku, Hitoshi and Denki, however, had stayed for much longer (he’d told the other boys’ parents that they could stay as long as they liked; he _certainly_ wasn’t brave enough to tell Tomura, his role of ‘Dungeon Master’ absolute, that the other children needed to go) whilst Inko and Ume continued to chat, drink coffee and laugh.

Ahh…

It was _great_ to see Inko building another friendship, wasn’t it?

Damn…

It felt _good_ to see so many smiles, didn’t it?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next stop...
> 
> Date Night, Part 1~!
> 
> Fufufufufufuuuuuu~!!


	42. Date Night – Part 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Warnings include: swearing, a smidge of angst (it's a smidge, I swear), innuendo and...**
> 
> **Fufufufufufufufuuuuuu~!**
> 
> **Oh guys, I hope that you enjoy this as much as I enjoyed writing it~!!**
> 
> **XD**

By 18:07, he’d successfully led all of the adults through their earlier sessions (they’d fussed over the birthday boys and enjoyed a few slices of cake) and he’d ensured that they’d all left with the address for the Yoga Studio two minutes down the street. The man who owned the wide, soft-surfaced, fully air-conditioned space had been more than happy to book slots on Sunday evenings for them and the price was… _reasonable_ ; the adults hadn’t minded paying an additional 1000yen to their 1500yen service fee, at least.

The kids, all still animatedly playing D&D, weren’t showing any signs of stopping as he re-entered the café; he’d nipped upstairs, showered and put on his better pair of black jeans with the cap-sleeved, maroon t-shirt Midnight had requested (“ _it should be criminal too look that good _in_ clothes, Shou-chwan~!_”) and his leather ankle-boots.

His hair was down, for a change, but he had a bobble stashed in his back-pocket out of habit; he’d shaved, too: he was starting to notice an increase in stubble as he got older and, although it was illogical to clear it (it’d only grow back, wouldn’t it?) the idea of wearing a beard-guard to meet hygiene standards was bothersome.

Therefore, the clean-shaven look would have to stay; not that he minded, but his other little bothers had _always_ lightly teased him about his young, _pretty_ face.

Heh…

In just six weeks’ time they be coming for a real visit and, although he called them once a week and their photos were dotted about everywhere in the apartment (alongside those of his study-group, their parents and the teens), you couldn’t hug a phone-call, could you?

God… they were getting to be so grown up now, too, weren’t they? He hoped that all of the time they’d spent in their new care-centres and foster-homes in Tokyo, Kanazawa and Kyoto wouldn’t make Musutafu too boring for them now…

 _Hmm_ …

Then, phone in hand with his set of keys (Dabi and Tomura knew how to lock up; he’d text them when he was coming home so they could deactivate the security system and let him in) safely resting inside a front pocket, he headed back down stairs to the sounds of the tots cheering a move they’d made in their game.

Looking through the viewing window, he snickered as the decay quirk user glowered at the three dice laying before him whilst his partner laughed and took a monster, of some kind, off of the board.

Heh…

He’d have to try a game or two with them sometime, wouldn’t he?

“Okay guys” he called as he walked through the door and into the service-bar area, Ume and Inko looking at him from the booth behind the gaming children as he smiled at them all; “Hitoshi? Your bag is packed ready for your sleepover and I’ve boxed up cold-soba for everyone if you get hungry, alright?”

“Thanks… heh, aren’t you looking a little _too_ good for a date that’s _just for funsies_ , cat-dad?” Dabi called, his partner nodding sagely whilst the women giggled and whispered amongst themselves; “just don’t forget that _we_ wanna have a talk with her before you go rushing off anywhere, alright?”

“No arguments here” he said, his eyes looking out of the bay-windows at the relatively quiet, Sunday street; “I’m going to get the cats settled in for the night, okay?”

“Ooh~! I’ll come help you, Shou-nii~! I’ve just taken my turn~!” Izuku, ever the thoughtful young man, called whilst his little form slipped out of the booth to skip after him after he shared a quick hug with his mother; “I can’t believe that they’d lived here for a _whole_ week already, can you?”

“Heh, I hear you Izu” he smiled as they walked through the archway that Uraraka Ryou had made for them, their eyes moving to the glass-fronted enclosure (that shined up like new every time he cleaned it) where, in various states of play or sleep, the felines awaited them. “Okay… can you get Hime for me? I’ll handle Jiji and Homura, alright?”

“You got it, Shou-nii” the younger smiled, his hands gentle as he carefully pet the Ragamuffin awake before scooping her up; “ano… Shou-nii?” the child continued whilst he offered their oldest resident his fingers to sniff before curling his arm around the lightly snoozing cat and picking him up, the Siamese swiftly following.

“Hmm?”

“Do… do you think that I could be a vet or… or maybe… maybe a _doctor_ , or something?”

Blinking, his broader form holding the door open for the tot to scamper through it, the café owner regarded him fondly. “I think you’d make an excellent medical professional in any field” he replied honestly: “having such a wonderful sense of empathy and care, well? I’m certain that you could find yourself very happy in such a career and you _definitely_ have the intellect for it” he praised.

Staring up at him, his cheeks pinked, Shouta then felt his smile soften when a flash of guilt crossed the boy’s face.

“Hey” he chuckled, his arms easily manoeuvring Jiji and Homura into their crates (side by side) before approaching the youth and crouching down to be at his eye-level, the fluffy feline in the child’s care purring when he stroked her flank, his other hand ruffling the kid’s hair. “Has Hitoshi told you what he wants to do when he’s older?”

“Mm-hmm” he nodded, that look still there.

“Well… thinking about the hero agency you all want to build when you’re grown up, having a top-notch lawyer _and_ a quirk-specialist doctor on the team will certainly help all of you to reach that number one spot, won’t it?”

“Y-you… you mean, I… I could be _both_ a hero _and_ a doctor?!” the six-year-old breathed, his eyes starry.

“Heh… I’d argue that health-care professionals are _already_ heroes but, Izuku?” he stated, his tone firm; “you have the ability to be _anything_ you want to be, alright? Heh… we’ll have to get some industrial-sized tissue boxes for me and your mom to use when you graduate, though, won’t we?” 

~*~ 

When all of the cats were safely in their crates, the kittens _finally_ tuckered out after all of their play and antics, Shouta walked the freckled child back into the café proper, his eyes finding the teens outside where Midnight stood, her face shifting from bewildered, to tense, to _scared_ and then…

“Uh-oh…”

 _Overjoyed_ , her arms thrown around the baulking pair and squeezing them into her.

Watching on, the eatery owner shared a chuckle with Izuku; “you said it” he grinned: “I better get out there and rescue them before they suffocate, hadn’t I?” he snickered.

Then, a quick wave to Ume and Inko, his hands ruffling Hitoshi and Denki’s hair as he walked past them on his way outside, his right hand had launch towards his face to smother his grinning lips as the teenagers were _finally_ released.

“Ooohhh~! Shou-chwan~! Your boys are so—”

“Shh~!” Dabi hissed before turning around and stalking back to the eatery, his partner (mortified; heh, he should imagine that a hug of that magnitude being sprung on him was something that’d stay with him for _quite_ a while: hmm… they needed to up his hug intake, didn’t they?) shuffling next to him, those turquoise and crimson eyes meeting his as they went.

“You’re to be home by 23:00, young man” the flame quirk user stated shortly.

“And _no_ funny business, lady, or else~!” Tomura called over his shoulder.

Watching them re-enter the café, his expression fond, Shouta turned back to the woman, his brows lifting when she smiled and presented him with a biker-helmet, her civilian clad form (dressed in tight-leather pants (too hot for this weather, surely?), a white, frilly crop-top and a matching, black leather jacket) stood in a confident stance as she winked at him. “You ever ride a crotch-rocket before, hmm?”

Blinking (she obviously meant the slender motorcycle; a Kawazaki Cruiser, if he wasn’t mistaken), the erasure quirk user took the helmet and followed her to the two-seater, his free hand reaching for his bobble to make a quick, neck-nape bun; “once or twice” he replied (why had she… _squealed?_ ). “I used to make deliveries back when I worked in a Tokyo bakery” he told her with a light-shrug; “the company’s small, electric cargo-scooter was probably a little slower than this, though” he mused with a grin.

“Ahh~! Well, don’t you worry~!” the older woman purred; “I won’t ride you too hard, okay?”

~*~

Jetting around Musutafu (thankfully at the city’s speed-limit; he could tell by her revving of the engine that she’d _love_ to go faster _but_ , as a hero, it’d be hypocritical for her to break the law, wouldn’t it?) on a bike was strangely thrilling.

Heh, if it wasn’t for the expense and the impracticality of maintaining and housing such a thing he _could_ become tempted to get a licence.

Hmm…

“You okay back there?”

Ahh, was anything _not_ wifi enabled these days?

“Yeah, m’fine” he replied, his hands gripping the passenger bar behind him; she’d offered ( _countless_ times) for him to hold her hips or waist, _of course_.

However…

He’d found himself blushing and declining every time; he’d never really experienced physical intimacy with anyone and, although he wasn’t sure _why_ he found such a gesture inappropriate… he did.

Would…

Would he feel that way about potentially touching one of the men he was going to venture out with?

Hmm…

It was something to think about, wasn’t it?

Especially since he was supposed to be exploring who and what he liked in a romantic sense, wasn’t he?

“We’re about five minutes away from our date destination” the Pro Hero continued (her tone sounded a little _too_ excited, didn’t it? Heh, he wasn’t quite sure what a _fetish dungeon_ was but Dabi had told him enough to make him add a taxi-service on speed-dial; surely, she wouldn’t pick such a place to take him, right?). “We’re going to do something that I’ve _always_ wanted to try and I just _know_ that you’ll be amazing at it, too~!” she cooed: “you inspired me to book a session for us, you know?”

Blinking, his body leaning into the next bend (heh; driving something like this was probably really fun, wasn’t it?), Shouta started to think about the conversations they’d had in the past.

Nothing _inspirational_ really sprang to mind and, if she was taking him to some kind of cooking class that’d be interesting _but_ he would have given her lessons in anything she’d wanted to try other than sushi (eight years’ worth of training seemed… illogical to him regardless of it truly being a form of art) if she’d asked.

God.

He hoped that she hadn’t spent her hard-earned money on something he could have provided for her free of charge.

~*~

Rounding two more corners, his eyes looking around at the city he’d grown up in but never really explored, his hind-brain flagged up that they were heading towards the entertainment district.

“Karaoke?”

They’d been travelling for ten minutes and, the conversation flowing, Midnight had asked him to guess about their plans as they neared where his first-date would take place.

“Nope~! That’s more Mic’s territory than mine~!”

Hmm… right.

Shit; he hoped that the blonde (who was taking him out after his birthday in a week’s time; he’d be visiting the Detention House with Hitoshi in the morning, providing the voice quirk users birthday party in the afternoon and, so long as his ward was alright (the Pro said he’d be happy to take a rain-check if not), they’d head out in the evening) _didn’t_ pick that for an activity.

He was _pretty_ sure he was tone-deaf.

“Bowling?”

“Honey, do I _look_ dressed for a place full of screaming kids, stinky-shoes, nachos and cheap beer, hmm?”

Umm…

Did you _dress_ a different way for such things? Sure, getting dolled-up for weddings, anniversaries, graduations and festivals he could understand _but_ the whole ‘wardrobe’ thing (outside of summer clothes vs. winter) was something completely irrational to him.

And expensive, besides.

“Kabuki?”

“Oohhh~! Fun but _no_ ~!” she giggled; “but… you’re getting warmer~!”

Warmer, huh?

“An… acting-class?”

Ugh… please God, _no_ ; outside of karaoke, he couldn’t think of anything _worse_ …

“Hee-hee~! Now, would I force such a flashy, attention-grabbing thing on you, Shou-chwan?”

‘ _Yes… yes you would_ ’ he thought; hmm… just _how_ injured would he be if he jumped off of the bike while it was moving?

They weren’t going _that_ fast, were they?

“Wah~! Okay, I’ll tell you~!” she called, the vehicle slowing as they approached an underground parking-lot, his head tilting up to try and see any of the tall building’s advertising banners and billboards; “we’re going to have a _pole-dancing_ lesson~!”

Pole dancing?

Blinking (it’d been an Olympic sport for some time now, hadn’t it?) Shouta heard himself hum.

“Now just hear me out, okay?” she asked, the Cruiser sliding down and through the barrier which lifted as they neared it; “you were the head of your middle and high school gymnastic teams, right?” she furthered: “so I figured this would be something fun that we could enjoy together _and_ you’d be using a skill-set you already have” she chirped. “I thought that this would be a _logical_ thing for us to do, you know?”

Chuckling, the bike coming to a stop, the café owner slipped off of his seat and grinned at her; “okay” he said, his shoulders rolling in a light shrug.

“Why not?”

~*~

 _Zo-chan_ , a former gold-medallist in her sport, had greeted them at the fancy, gold-gilded doors, her saccharine smile wide as she circled him and Midnight in turn, her opal eyes dancing with excitement.

Her _studio_ (if you could call it that) spanned three storeys and offered everything from beginners’ courses to full-packages and advanced training for people with Olympic ambitions.

The place was, overall, aesthetically pleasing; the floors were lacquered obsidian, the walls glossy and sparkling and, in the lobby? A selection of poles were arranged around the expansive waiting-room’s chairs with card-board cut-outs of her stuck to them in various poses.

Poses from her “ _glory-days_ ”; hell, she was only thirty-four, wasn’t she?

But, as they signed in (they were booked in for an hour and a half’s session with complimentary showers and… _costumes?_ ), he found himself not particularly daunted until…

“Ahh~! I love it when people with _actual_ muscle tone sign up for a premium class~!” she cooed, her body circling him in a predatory manner before winking at the Pro and leading them out of the lobby.

Hmm…

Then, as they walked through the glitzy corridors, the sounds of pulsing, western music bouncing around them and the glittery walls peppered with posters, prize-winning photographs and celebrity testimonials almost blinding, Shouta regarded his date with a light frown.

“I hope you didn’t pay a ridiculous amount for this” he said quietly (Zo-chan was walking slightly ahead and bragging about all of the people she knew, the rich people she’d taught and the Olympians she was currently training so he was _pretty_ sure she couldn’t hear him); “won’t you please allow me to pay half, I…”

“Not on your life, Shou-chwan~!” she winked; “this is _my_ treat and _my_ pleasure, okay?”

Huffing at her but nodding (he didn’t want to appear rude), the eatery owner sighed; “so long as you’re sure? I mean… it’s not that I aren’t grateful…”

“Heh, you’re just a big’ol’sweetheart, aren’t you?” she cooed; “you do so much for everyone else, Shouta” she smiled, her arms looping around his right as they walked towards a studio: “it’s not wrong to let us treat you for a change, you know?”

~*~

Entering a private changing room, his shoulders relaxing slightly when he saw a simple black t-shirt and shorts in a soft, cotton-lycra fabric, he quickly changed and placed his valuables into the locker provided, his eyes catching himself in the full-length mirror as he made to leave.

‘ _What in the world are you doing, huh?_ ’ he asked himself, a smile tugging his lips at the ridiculousness of it all.

But hey, you only lived once and he just _knew_ that his teenagers (his first set of brothers and his… _sons_ , heh) would get a _real_ laugh out of this when he told them about it.

Hell, maybe they’d let him record himself having a go?

He certainly wasn’t opposed to laughing at himself, after all and… it’d be nice to have this occasion commemorated, wouldn’t it?

Hmm…

Then, after sucking in a breath, he walked back out into the laminated-floor space, his eyes looking to the selection of poles (surrounded with thick, pillowed-padding upon the floor to mitigate any injuries) where Midnight was stood (in a similar outfit) with Zo-chan who’d gone full, sequined leotard.

O-kay?

“Wonderful, _wonderful_ ~!” the fiery red-head grinned, her hands clapping together; “so then, my pretties~! Let’s start our premium workout with some stretches, okay~?!”

~*~

Yagi Toshinori knew, fundamentally, that he shouldn’t be… _pining_.

Shouta-kun was an amazing, incredible, talented and generous person and, as genuinely thrilled as he was that the other (who’d been through so much, who’d become such a _sensational_ young man regardless of the turbulent childhood he’d lived through, his thoughts and actions _always_ revolving around others) was getting the attention and companionship he deserved, well?

He was a little… jealous?

It wasn’t as though he wished that he’d been brave enough to ask him out first, of course.

No.

No, what Midnight had arranged was fantastic and he would continue to thank her (and Mirai, who’d jumped in to ensure that they could provide him with a pleasurable Sunday evening, too) for her forethought and confidence.

However…

As he sat here, in his penthouse’s bedroom, the quiet of the evening something that he used to relish (he loved his job, he loved his life, he _loved_ being able to make a difference in their country and bring peace to its citizens _but_ getting even a night-off from _show-boating_ and missions was nice… once in a while) seemed…

 _Flat_ …

He missed the sounds of the little study-group laughing, he missed the ambience of the café, he missed the delicious food, refreshing drinks and company of people he _didn’t_ have to play up to.

Heh…

It was silly of him, really, but…

Try as he might, he couldn’t visualise Shouta anywhere else and so, knowing that he was out in Musutafu somewhere, hopefully laughing, smiling and having a good time, he…

He wanted to _see_ that…

Mirai had grumped at him when he’d said as much today; “ _then why didn’t you ask to be his first date?_ ” his sidekick had asked, those incredible eyes looking at him bewilderedly.

“ _Because I… I would… I did, I _do_ want to be his last, you know, before he makes a decision… ahh, if there is a decision to be made_” he’d chuckled back; “ _I… I would like to… what’s that American phrase? Leave an impression_ ” he’d chuckled.

Yes, he wanted to be a memory that would linger, if nothing else…

He could… he _would_ be happy with that, too, of course, he…

* **Bzz-bzz-bzz-bzz** *

*Midnight has added you to ShoutaDateChat*

Oh?

Well, wasn’t that thoughtful? Everyone involved with their attempts to provide their favourite café owner with fun experiences was in there including the raven-haired man himself…

M: *“he’s letting me film this, I swear~!!”*

“Huh?”

Blinking at his phone, his body sitting up in bed, Toshinori regarded his phone belatedly as a range of “video-messages” started to load, his smile broadening.

Ahh~!

Where were they?

What had they been up to?

Had she surprised him with a picnic in the mountains?

Had they gone for a walk along the beach front?

Perhaps they were doing something a little more… adventurous? Rock-climbing was, apparently, a first-date favourite now, he…

*VideoMessage1: FireManSpin*

“Fireman?” he murmured; oh… was Midnight trying to get him into a hero-program by starting off with an emergency-services training session? Wasn’t that a…

“ _Oh-my-God-are-you-seeing-this~!?_ ”

Looking at the young woman’s face (so lovely, so confident), the Number One Pro was preparing himself to see Shouta dressed in full, firefighting apparel when…

“ _Maa~ you’re a natural, kid~!_ ”

“W-what…”

Lean, muscular figure hugged by rich, ebony fabric from his shoulders to his upper-thighs, Shouta’s body climbed up a shiny, gold pole before artfully, _sensually_ , spiralling down it, his limbs poised and arranged _just so_ before he landed to strut around in a circle.

*PM: “WWWWWWWWWWWWAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH~!!”*

_I-indeed…_

Feeling his mouth become suddenly, _incredibly_ dry, his thumb was moving to tap on the next message before he knew what he was doing.

*VideoMessage2: BackHook*

Then, there he was again, like something out of a dream, his body slowly spinning, his head tilted back as though some unseen force was pulling him and rotating him around with all of the grace of a pirouetting ballet dancers, the sultry music in the background a _perfect_ accompaniment to his movements.

*LC: “Nemu… you are a **genius~!** ”*

*VideoMessage3: Swan*

Dear God, he…

He’d never seen such graceful movements, Shouta’s face was relaxed as he went through the motions before he snickered (as though he _didn’t_ look like a billion dollars) at the camera whilst he waved his arms, elegantly, in tandem.

*SNE: “I… am lost for words… this footage is…”*

*VideoMessage4: Skater*

And then, his body moving about the pole as though he’d been practicing for years (maybe… he had been? He thought that was unlikely given how busy the man usually was, even _before_ he bought his café and turned all of their worlds upside down for the better), he composed himself into a perfect sculpture, looked at Midnight…

“ _Ready for the big finish?_ ”

… laughed and fell to the padded floor in a belly-flop, the sound of the female hero laughing herself silly whilst the other person (the instructor?) within the room tutted and told him that he was “ _a prodigy, I’m telling you~! **Please** don’t tell me that you already have an Agent~!? You could win big~!!_” filtering over the music.

Then, that beautiful form (almost as beautiful as the man himself) sat up and laughed, his head shaking ruefully her; “ _it’d be illogical for me to pursue this as a third career, Zo-chan, but thank you for your offer…_ ”

Then, just like that, it was over…

 _Wow_ …

*M: “well boys, I don’t mean to brag… too much~!” the young woman typed to them; *“but I think _all of you_ are going find it hard to _top_ that, now, aren’t you~!! 😉”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, pole-dancing?
> 
> LOTS of people are fighting to get this into the Olympics, and well? BNHA/MHA is set in the future, isn't it and, my God... it IS a sport...
> 
> I did a lil research and I'm not ashamed to say that there are MANY talented, male pole-dancers out there (and women/non gender conforming people, too~! No hate, but Shouta is a man and I needed the imagery... Fufufufufufuuuu) and WOW, you gotta have muscles FOR DAYS~!
> 
> All of the videomessages ARE real pole-dancing moves, too, if you want a look see~!
> 
> Tee-hee~!!
> 
> Ahh~! Such fun~!
> 
> Also, since I had someone ask, a "shovel talk" is when a person's (usually older, usually male) relatives approach someone who wants to date/be romantically involved with them and threatens them...
> 
> I.e. "you break their heart, I'll kill you and bury your body **with THIS shovel** , in a place where NO ONE will EVER find it~!!"
> 
> Ahh... so cute~!
> 
> Right?
> 
> Well, Midnight seemed to think so, anyway~!
> 
> *Cackles*
> 
> The murder-twins (as one fantastic commenter has dubbed Dabi/Tomura) wouldn't need a shovel to do such things, of course...
> 
> But, for comedic value? They _may_ just be able to get a hold of a shovel or two later~!


	43. Happy Birthday, Mic~!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Warnings include: swearing, angst, prison-setting, worry, anger, dealing with difficult situations and...**
> 
> **THE FFFFFFFEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEELLLLLLLLLLSSSSSSSSS~!!**
> 
> They're coming to get ya~!
> 
> XD
> 
> WAH~! THIS FIC HAS OVER 1000 KUDOS~!
> 
> Aww~!
> 
> You guys~!
> 
> ;_;
> 
> Thank you~!
> 
> Ooohhh~! And if you wanna see some male pole-dance champions, *no plug/no advertising, I swear* go check out "PolePassion" on YouTube...
> 
> I mean... 2015 World Champion, Dimitry Politov, Ke Hong (2018) and Kristian Lebedev...
> 
> _Wow..._

He’d gotten home that night (at 22:37, the teens awake, alert and waiting for him) feeling…

“Holy shit, cat-dad, where the hell did all of _that_ come from, huh?”

 _Lighter_ …

“Tch, at least we know of a way for him to make money after the café goes bankrupt, right?”

He’d shared the videos with them and, the three of them laughing on the couch, Shouta had to admit that he’d been wrong to be so cautious; he… he’d had _fun_ with someone else close to his age.

And, although both of them had agreed that there was no “romantic spark” between them, they’d hugged as friends, _good friends_ , and had promised to make arrangements for an _actual_ dance class together sometime over the summer.

He had, however, felt his cheeks flushing when All Might sent him a message that night: “you looked like you had a really good time~! Thank you for sharing it with us you… you amaze me more and more, everyday 😊.”

 _God_ …

What was he supposed to say to that?

 _Why_ did it make his heart beat a little faster?

Hmm…

Then, having tucked himself into bed (he’d left the teens in the living-room; he _could_ have asked _why_ they were shopping for shovels but didn’t want to intrude), he’d watched Loud Cloud, Present Mic and Sir Nighteye typing to each other back and forth within the group-chat Midnight had made…

*LC:“we’re gonna have to bring our A-Game, guys~!”*

*PM:“ha~! Challenge accepted~! My date-night will blow Nemu-chan _straight_ out of the running~!”*

*SNE:“Let me guess… you’re taking him to a karaoke-bar? Are you sure that’s wise?”*

*PM:…*

*PM:“I… I mean… how, I… shit…”*

*PM Left the Chat*

*LC:“ooohhhhhh~! Shots fired~! _Damn_ ~! I mean… Zashi, come on, man… he’s got a point, you know?”*

*SNE:“I meant no offense… but, that was quite… _predictable_ , wouldn’t you say?”*

*PM Entered the Chat*

*PM: “Okay fine, I take your point but you’ll NEVER beat my PLAN B~! 😉 I’ve got this in the bag, you’ll see~! Shou-chan, prepare to be _amazed_ ~!”

… _hilarious_ ; poor Mic, he’d have to call him later to make sure that he wasn’t planning to go overboard, wouldn’t he?

Chuckling to himself, he locked his screen, shoved the device under his futon (after sending a quick text to Inko to let her know that he’d gotten home safely; she’d replied quickly and told him that she wanted “all of the details~! O-oh… if that’s okay?” when she saw him tomorrow) and settled down to sleep.

Heh.

All in all? He thought he could get used to this _dating_ business…

~*~

The week (getting hotter with each passing day; heh, his ice-cream and brownie combo-deals were selling out before the dinner-time rush started: he’d have to order more ice-cream, wouldn’t he? It was quite cumbersome to make and it wasn’t worth the additional time or expense to buy a machine and make his own just now) marched on.

However, on what should have been just an ordinary Wednesday afternoon, his youngest children speeding through their work and waving at the cats they were desperate to play with, he’d overheard a conversation whilst checking on his adult customers and bringing lemonade to Dabi, Tomura and Spinner as they bickered their way through a new game.

Ordinarily, he wouldn’t have eavesdropped unless he’d thought that the (wonderful) comradery they’d been building together for the past two months could be in danger; he knew that children fell in and out of friendships and he _knew_ that was normal, but…

 _But_ , the thought of them sticking together, looking out for each other and growing closer was something that he deeply wanted for them.

Something that he _knew_ would be beneficial for them, especially since they were all (for the majority) still fixed on such a dangerous career path.

And yet, as he’d listened in (Izuku and his ward had decided to tell the group about the areas they wanted to specialise in) he needn’t have worried…

Katsuki, of course, had praised them for thinking about the additional services _their_ Agency would need and could offer to others. He’d gone as far as to say: “ _no one will mess with us legally now **and** we won’t need to rely on hospitals too much, either, which’ll mean we won’t be using up civilian resources~! Heh~! Good work, you two~!_”

The freckled boy had been delighted at the praise and _swore_ to do his best whilst his older friend had fondly rolled his eyes and said “ _we’re not doing it **just** for you Kaachan **but** we’re behind you, Number 1 Pro in the making… heh, you’re getting better as a leader, you know? You just need to stop saying _die_ so much, alright? It’ll make my job as your lawyer easier, okay?_”

Then, not to be out-done, Ochaco and Tsuyu told them that they wanted to hone their skills down a “search and rescue” route, Eijiro had already filled the position of “ _Kacchan’s Number 1 Sidekick~! Woo-yeah~!_ ” whilst Denki, his cheeks blushing ashamedly, had asked his friends: “ _w-what… what can I do that’d be more helpful? I mean… I’m kind’of an air head and, well? My quirk is kind’a all over the place, isn’t it?_ ”

He’d watched, feeling a little pensive, his hands wiping down a table and ready to step when, to his continued joy and pride, the other children had leaned towards him across the study-table.

“ _Are you kidding?_ ” Katsuki had grinned, his smile fierce; “ _you’re like… **beyond** useful~!_” he’d praised. “ _So what if you don’t know how to direct your quirk yet… Deku will help you with that_ ” he’d stated; “ _plus, we can all wear boots with rubber on them so we won’t get shocked when we’re fighting together, right_?”

Tsuyu, the person responsible for bringing the boy to the café in the first place, then curled her arm about him; “ _your quirk can help people if there’s a power outage too, kero~! You could keep a hospital running in an emergency _and_ protect it from villains at the same time~! Kero~!_”

Then Eijiro, ever the compassionate child, hugged his other side; “ _we’d want you with us even if you couldn’t do any of that stuff, too, you know? _You’re_ our friend… that already makes you special, okay?_”

If he’d had to quickly walk away to compose himself (as the tots indulged in a group-hug) after witnessing such a thing, well, only the cats he went to visit and a similarly teary-eyed Tomoko (who’d watched the whole thing for the cat-desk she manned) knew.

They’d not dared to meet each other’s eyes for fear of dissolving; however, he had brought them all a platter or two of onigiri to share as a study snack, his hands absentmindedly ruffling their hair as he’d done so.

Heh…

Such _good_ kids…

~*~

Then, as he went through the motions of a regular Saturday, the cat-enclosure occupied by fawning MU students and a few salarymen (who were cooing over the cats like it was going out of style), he had a wander around his work space to check on his customers, wards and lodger **s**. For Tomura was only heading home every other day to do his home-school work now; God, he was so glad that the younger teenager was staying over more often: he didn’t like the thought of him being alone at night with the nightmares that plagued him on the regular.

With everyone happy (eating, talking, tapping away on laptops or phones, their shoulders relaxed and refreshing, icy-drinks refilled), he made his way back to the service bar and reviewed his Sunday schedule.

He and Hitoshi (Dabi and his partner had wanted to come, however, the Detention House rules only allowed visitors in two at a time; tch, stupid quirk restriction laws) would set off for Tokyo at 07:00, they’d be back for 11:30, Mic’s party was at 12:30 – 14:30 and 15:00 – 16:30 he’d be training the Police Force Pair, then the adult classes had been bunched together at 17:00 to 19:00.

Which meant that he and Mic would be “ _stepping out together, baby~! I’m gonna treat you _so_ nice~!_” at 20:00.

Heh.

He was glad that they’d have so much to keep them busy after visiting Kimiko; his ward had been so brave about the whole thing, too.

In fact, as he moved to refill some coffee for the cramming middle-schoolers (the end of term exams were approaching and they wanted to get as many high scores as they could before the end of term hit; heh, he remembered that pain), the tot was sat with Izuku as they added to the memory book they were making for his mother that was spread across the study-table.

God, he was so glad that he had a friend who lived so close by; similarly, he couldn’t be happier that the teens he housed had taken such a pivotal role in Hitoshi’s life, as well.

For, although Dabi was diligently checking on the costumers sipping ice-tea and lemonade outside, Tomura was sat with the younger children, his hands offering photos to glue into the book; furthermore, even though she shouldn’t be (she’d refused to be paid for it, too), Tomoko was busily cleaning around the cat enclosure with Midnight assisting.

Hmm.

If he wasn’t mistaken, there was a friendship (maybe something more? The ebony haired Pro had winked at him when he’d nodded at the emerald haired woman who, at the time, had been cuddling the two tots and excitedly praising them as her “ _adorable lil brothers~!_ ”, her brows waggling) budding there.

Good, he couldn’t have been gladder.

Seeing the pair of them happy and potentially developing a deeper relationship gave him hope for himself and everyone else who came through his café’s door, too.

Heh, maybe Spinner was right and there was a touch of magic in that little, cat-eared bell that hung over the door?

Tch.

What an illogical thought…

~*~

Dressing Hitoshi up in the suit that Tomura had bought for him, the pair had bid the teens goodbye and gotten into the unmarked police car that Tsuragamae-san had sent to collect them (“ _Aizawa-san, please… this is the least I can do considering your generosity and assistance; there will always be an escort for you, alright?_ ”), the memory book in hand.

Then, half an hour later, they were stood in the “visitors” car-park, the friendly officer giving him a number to call when their time was up.

Shit…

The Detention House was _huge_.

Letting out a quiet sigh, his ward’s little hand clasped in his own, they walked up a short step of stairs and entered into the austere lobby where an officious, puffer-fish quirked man shoved a tablet at him with an electronic form to fill in.

Tch, _asshole_.

However, with his _three_ pieces of evidence to confirm his identity (fucking _really_?) view, scanned and logged alongside them both having to have their photographs taken (he supposed such measures were necessary, these days) with “visitors-badges” assigned they were _finally_ allowed to go through.

Reaching down to pick the child up (his little face relieved), they wandered down a few tall, wide, echoing, peach-painted corridors behind a much more friendly man ( _actually_ made out of bricks) until they reached a small, corridor like room filled with booths.

He’d warned Hitoshi beforehand, of course; he’d be able to see his mother on the opposite side of the glass but they wouldn’t be able to touch her and the words that they shared with each other would be recorded.

God…

He could understand these kinds of measures for a villain or a criminal part of a gang _but_ , to keep the child from his mother, his mother who he’d argued was more a victim herself than anything else (tch, that’s not how the _law_ saw it though; she’d been a sex-worker in a brothel run by a small-time yet organised illegitimate business man), well?

It was wrong.

 _So_ wrong and yet, when they’d spoken about today’s visit yesterday evening (he’d showed him photographs so he knew what to expect), the tot had sucked in a breath, set his shoulders and said: “ _this makes me wanna become a lawyer even more, Shou-nii… this system has gotta be made fairer, right?_ ”

Damn…

He couldn’t have been prouder if he’d tried.

“Okay Aizawa-san, Shinsou-kun, please make your way to booth 7; you’ll be given a ten-minute warning before your times up and I must remind you that _any_ attempts to make contact with the Inmate-B2477 will…”

“ _Hey_ ” he cut in, his eyes narrowed; “we know and understand your rules, _sir_ ” he stated, his arms curling protectively around the saddened child he held: “Shinsou-san is a person, not a number, and she is this wonderful young man’s mother, besides” he snipped.

Cocking a brow at him, those milky, mortar-coloured eyes looking to the boy, the terracotta-coloured prison-guard huffed out a sigh; “forgive me” he said with a little bow: “procedure is procedure and we, umm… we don’t tend to receive visitors who are so young” he admitted. “I’m sorry, Shinsou-kun” he furthered; “your mom is already sat there and waiting for you, okay?”

~*~

The time they’d spent together had flown by; Kimiko, despite where she was, seemed brighter than ever. Gone were the dark circles under her eyes and, since she’d been allowed to, she proudly showed off some the courses she’d started in a paper, ring-binder, her face _just_ as determined as her son’s.

She’d adored the memory book, her tone filled with excitement as she asked the child all about his birthday, the cats (she’d become a little teary when Hitoshi proudly told her that he’d named him Bombay kitten after his father), his school work and she’d veritably squealed when he told her about his career ambitions.

It would have been a lovely time if not for the passive-aggressive walking of the guards, multiple CCTV cameras and the five inches of quirk resistant glass bracketed between them.

Shit…

But, things could have been worse, couldn’t they?

They were here, they would come here every three weeks and, thank goodness, she was looking _well_.

He couldn’t see any evidence of maltreatment and she’d even mentioned, once or twice, that she’d been befriended by some other women who were there under similar circumstances and two of the women she’d known from the brothel were also in her low-risk wing, their cells in the same block.

She also told them that the food was okay (“ _it’s nothing compared to yours, Shouta-kun~!_ ”), that she got to work in the garden twice a week and, since she’d shown such an interest in catering courses, she was going to start working in the wing’s kitchens soon.

“ _Then I can help you with your baking and cooking when we’re back at the café together, can’t I?_ ”

God.

If he could have busted through that glass, scooped both of them up and made a run for it in that moment then he would have.

 _Shit_.

“Your visit ends in ten minutes.”

Glaring at the little speaker shoved between them and lodged in between the glass, the eatery owner excused himself to get a couple of sodas from the vending machine behind him (it was hot in the room and he wanted the boy to have something cool to drink before they got back into the car he’d have to call for when they were in the lobby), his brows furrowed.

It wasn’t right that the boy be so near and yet so far from his only, living parent, was it?

What did they _really_ think that she could or would do to him or vice versa?

Tch.

He could only give them this small modicum of privacy, too, couldn’t he?

‘ _You’ve got to stay positive for him if nothing else… it wouldn’t do for him to see you becoming upset… it wouldn’t help Kimiko, either_ ’ he thought; ‘ _you can only do so much_ ’ he told himself: ‘ _making the best out of bad situations is something you could teach a class in by now, right?_ ’

~*~

The drive back to the café had been… quiet.

Hitoshi had curled into him but, after a little coaxing, the child had started to talk, relax and they’d both sang along to a song their police escort (who just so happened to be Tamakawa Sansa, of all people; damn… that fur looked soft but reaching out to stroke would be _way_ too intrusive, wouldn’t it?) had put on the radio.

Then, once they were back home, the memory book in hand and ready for whatever other adventures they had coming, they’d bid the cat-headed man good-bye (until later; the Police Force pair were more than happy to work with him outside, on the astro-turf since the course they were hoping to pass would be… _intense_ ) and gone inside.

Dabi and Tomura (such good kids) had wrapped their little brother up in affectionate hugs and spirited him away to where Izuku was awaiting his return, the freckled tot reaching for him and taking him to the cat enclosure where Tomoko (now a permanent and much-loved fixture in their lives) was poised to provide them both with cuddles and feline-fun.

Watching them go, his shoulders sagging in relief, he’d ventured upstairs to remove his tailored pants and button-down shirt and slipped into jeans and the Pusheen t-shirt he’d been gifted with thanks to Spinner and his grateful parents a few days ago; heh, what did he ever do to deserve such amazing people?

Grinning to himself at their thoughtfulness, his hair tied up again, he’d blinked and nearly walked into his first lodger, his mouth opening to apologise when the sixteen-year-old had pulled him into an embrace which he’d returned.

“ _You’re doing great, cat-dad_ ” he’d whispered before pulling away; “ _just don’t go running yourself ragged, okay?_ ”

He’d cupped the others shoulders, promised him that he wouldn’t and then headed back downstairs with him; once in the kitchen (his favourite domain) he got out the large, candy-covered cake (Mic had _quite_ the sweet-tooth, it seemed) to check it over whilst Dabi greeted Midnight and Loud Cloud, their arms loaded with party-supplies.

He’d then helped them, alongside Tomoko (whilst Tomura and his partner continued to oversee the tots and their cat companions), to set up the streamers and position the gifts for the enthusiastic blonde who’d be with them in half an hour’s time. 

And, between the four of them? Well, the café looked suitably festive and, with a loop of the DJ-come-hero’s favourite songs filtering through the sound system he’d helped to set up for the Noraneko, everything looked and sounded _just_ right.

He’d even fried some chicken in a western-styled batter (which was, apparently, the jade eyed man’s favourite dish; heathen) and made a simple, yet delicious slaw to go with it.

He would _not_ be making French-fries; the stench of boiling fat for the crispy, golden-brown drumsticks and thighs had been enough to turn his stomach, thank you.

Then, the food prepared and a ‘ _Cards Against Humanity_ ’ (Loud Cloud had insisted; Midnight had rolled her eyes and Tomoko had snickered; he wasn't sure _what_ to think: an R-Rated card game that the kids couldn't enjoy seemed... an _odd_ choice of activity to him) game set up, the _birthday-boy_ bounced in with his usual verve, his golden hair no longer in that (quite frankly ridiculous _but_ he’d never saw so to his face; that’d be cruel) _garish_ style but mostly loose with some strands crafted into a beautiful, half ponytail.

The Pro still sported that (had he called it… cute?) God awful moustache though; Dabi had sniggered the first time he’d seen it and called it a “ _low-grade, porn-tache_ ”.

Heh…

It was wrong of him to agree _but_ he couldn’t help but think that the voice quirk user would look better without it…

Still, who was he to criticise?

He didn’t know anything about fashion and, if _Zashi_ liked the look, then he’d support him being who he was, of course…

“Wah~! Shou~! Guys~! This is great, thank you~!”

Welcoming him into the café proper, Izuku and Hitoshi springing up from where they’d hidden at the end of the service bar to shower him with party-streamers, the five twenty-something-year-olds started to share out gifts and food whilst the teens and tots retreated to the cat enclosure. 

All in all, he could chalk up yet another success in birthday-stakes, couldn’t he?

Heh…

And with Izuku’s being celebrated next Sunday (on the 14th), he just knew that things would turn out for the better; hell, if the kid enjoyed his presents and party with the same energy as Mic (“ _mmm~!! This is the _best_ fried chicken I’ve _ever had~!_ How do you keep blowing me away, Shou-chan~?!_”) then he’d probably be able to run his electricity straight off of the kid, wouldn’t he?

“Happy Birthday, Zashi~!”

Ahh…

It felt good to see so many people enjoying themselves, didn’t it?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So...
> 
> Next chapter - ErseraMic date...
> 
> Then, Happy Birthday, Izu-chan~!
> 
> And...
> 
> MAJOR PLOT POINT TWO~!
> 
> AFO will be visiting the cafe, guys...
> 
> *Cackles*
> 
> Oh...
> 
> OH!
> 
> I have... such plans~!
> 
> We're gonna be fine, I swear~!


	44. Date Night – Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Warnings include: a smidge of angst, reflections on growing up in difficult circumstances, swearing, references to sexual assault, cultural differences and...**  
>  **FFFFFFFFFFFEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEELLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLSSSSSSSSSSSS~!!**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mic’s outfit = Episode 20 of season 3; this episode featured a special murder-mystery(?) “class” where Mic was playing a civilian who wanted to, and I quote; “buy a ring for his **girlfriend** ~!”
> 
> Fufufufufufuuuuu~!

Cards Against Humanity was, admittedly, hilarious… in a terrible, _horrible_ way (heh, no wonder it’d been banned back in the 21st Century); however, there was no denying the revery, the laugh-snorts and the general degradation of Midnight’s mind, was there?

Then, the food eaten and presents shared (he’d gotten the man a white bandana covered in cockatoos; it’d seemed appropriate at the time and, if the hug he’d received was anything to go by, then he’d clearly chosen wisely) he’d bid the Pro’s good bye and blushed, up to his ears, when _Hizashi_ took his hand and _kissed_ it.

How…

 _Illogical_ …

However, with the Police Force officers on the way he’d not really had any time to stop and ponder why, exactly, such a thing had made him flush.

Hmm…

Therefore, standing outside under the shade of his marquee (Dabi and Tomura had set it up for him), he’d eyed the two men who’d arrived in an unmarked police-car in shorts and t-shirts similar to his own.

“Okay” he began; “stretching is vital before beginning this kind of training so, for today? We’ll focus primarily on that and see what your strength, flexibility and core are like, alright?”

Tsukauchi Naomasa (twenty-three, six feet three, good muscle-tone) was relatively strong and, outside of his stiff posture (heh, most police-types tended to be high-strung, didn’t they?) good at taking instruction and not afraid to be knocked on his ass.

Heh; that was a trait that’d serve him well in the coming weeks.

Sansa, however, was the more agile of the two but, strangely, clumsy as all hell; he’d had to remind himself, several times, that having a cat-mutation where you lacked a human head _didn’t_ automatically give you a cat’s sense of balance, innate grace and poise.

God…

He was _pretty_ sure he’d heard his teenagers laughing from inside the café as the twenty-year-old officer continued to trip over his feet and clatter into his partner.

Damn it all; it shouldn’t have been _so_ adorable, but it was…

“Nya… this is… _I’m_ hopeless, aren’t I?”

“No” he stated firmly, his right hand extended to him to help him back up; “from what little I understand about police training, aiming and firing weapons alongside distance running is at the heart of what you’re taught, yes?” he asked, his gaze appraising them as they panted and chugged down complimentary lemonade.

“Y-yeah…” Naomasa agreed, the towel hung about his shoulders now rubbing at his face and neck; “maa~ I thought I was in good shape before today” he grinned, his expression sheepish.

“You have nothing to be concerned about” he told him flatly; “this kind of movement requires you to utilise muscles in new and different ways” he explained: “you’ll be sore tomorrow, however, the more you practise, the more you build muscle memory, the easier the katas will come, alright?”

Nodding and bowing, he then had them returning to their starting positions before moving them through a series of low-impact kicks and jabs.

However, when Sansa tripped into his superior officer and friend, _again_ , their bodies collapsing to the ground in a cacophony of limbs, they’d all shared a light laugh and headed back inside the café for a cool-off.

It’d take them a while (martial arts wasn’t for everyone for a number of reasons) _but_ he was sure that he could get them to where they needed to be before September.

Hmm…

If they could make it, it’d be worth letting them work with his study-group on Sunday mornings, wouldn’t it?

Nothing gave you motivation like Bakugo Katsuki threatening to “punch you until you get it right~!” did it?

Heh…

 _Hilarious_ …

~*~

Greeting his adult learners in the wide, airy, soft-floored space that the airconditioned Yoga Studio provided them, Shouta knew that he’d made the right decision; once the cooler September weather hit, they’d return to the open-aired marquee, of course, and then they could retreat back here in the winter months, couldn’t they?

Hitoshi and Izuku were with him, their bodies leading a group of new-starters in the stretches they’d need to master whilst he paired up the more experienced learners to practice escaping hair-grabs, clinch moves and mount position scenarios.

Collectively, he was certain that twenty five of the forty people who were attending his sessions were proficient in the majority of the techniques he was teaching them.

He’d been approached by an MU student last week (and her grateful, tearful father) as, thanks to his training and focus on remaining calm in a situation so you could rely on yourself to get free and run for safety, she’d managed to protect herself against some handy-lout who’d tried to drag her into an alley. She’d told him that she heard his voice whispering to her as she’d snapped out of her fear, turned and grabbed the man (taller, stronger but _completely_ thrown off kilter by her movements) by his hand, twisted it and trapped his arm in a painful lock. 

She’d forced him to his knees by threatening to snap it and yelled for help; the police had been with her (and the two salarymen (Kohaku and his friend; she’d hugged them this evening, too) who’d rushed in to help) in a matter of minutes.

The thug, someone not previously known to the police, had been hauled away and would locked up for at least a year.

Heh.

Small mercies…

He remembered, fondly, sharing a hug with her (and making sure that he’d taken a description of the bastard; just in case) and praising her strength; he was now eagerly welcoming the group of men and women from her MU Course who she’d brought with her this afternoon, their faces determined as they watched the tots and mimicked their stances.

Such good kids…

Kids who would be safer and living in a community of people being able to look after themselves and others for the most part…

Oh yes…

Slowly but surely, by enabling people like that student and her friends, he knew that things would get better; most villains who chose that lifestyle due to the ease of picking on _weaker_ people would soon have no more victims to claim, would they?

And that, he knew, was a very big step in the right direction…

~*~

By 19:40, he was showered and dressed in his standard black jeans, leather boots and the sky-blue t-shirt with a black cat curled over his heart, his damp hair shoved up in a messy bun as he oversaw the bread-machines diligently mixing dough, set the rice-cookers on their timers and placed a few ingredients (and ice-cream) orders.

Then, after checking over the smart-till (his profit margins were getting healthier by the day regardless of the new expense of renting that studio-space; it was worth it for the good he could do in a more comfortable area) and running a few tax calculations, 20:00 was only five minutes away.

Hitoshi was upstairs with the teens (he’d already hugged him goodnight and was assured that the boy was okay to have a “ _movie night~!_ ” with the older boys; he’d be in bed for 21:30 and he would be home by 22:30, in any case if he was needed) and the café was spotless.

Good.

That was one less thing to worry about, wasn’t it?

* **Ding-ding** *

Looking to the door, his smile easy, he saw Present Mic ( _“that’s Yamada Hizashi to you, Shou-chan~ I think I can trust you not to go spreading my real name around, right_?”) stood in another civilian outfit of stone-washed jeans, maroon t-shirt, black jacket and two beaded necklaces. Gone were the amber-lensed sunglasses and, instead? He wore a pair of red-framed specs with his hair brushed into a glossy, shaggy-tailed bun.

He looked…

_Good…_

“Hey there, you~!” he said with a wink; “you ready to get your world rocked?!”

“Umm…”

“Then let’s _go_ ~!”

Chuckling as his hand was grabbed (it was a loose-hold, he could have pulled away if he wanted to), Shouta allowed the other to pull him outside where the other’s car (an American model with two, white stripes painted down the middle of it; how… inconspicuous) was waiting for them.

“Okay, my man, let’s get this show on the road~!” he grinned whilst opening the front, passenger-door open for him.

“Thanks” he said, his tone a little hesitant as he slipped onto the leather-seat, buckled his belt and _tried_ to ignore the sea of fast-food wrappers and drinks’ cartons behind him.

He’d never understand why people ate such awful stuff; however, he wasn’t one to judge.

Even _if_ the _vast_ collection of rubbish behind him was making him… uneasy.

“So… where do you wanna go, neh?”

Blinking, his brows rising slightly when the other slipped behind the steering wheel, Shouta regarded him carefully; “oh, ugh…”

“Hee-hee~! I’m just playin’ with ya~!” the jaded eyed man snickered; “did you _really_ think that I’d just rock up with no plan, ah?”

‘ _For a second there… yeah, I really thought you had_ ’ his mind deadpanned whilst he chuckled a little sheepishly; “I was concerned that we’d have to rely on my not so stella dating-knowledge” he told him as the car pulled away from the curb and they set off: “so… where are we going?”

“It’s a _surprise~!_ ” the DJ come hero winked.

‘ _For just me or _both_ of us, I wonder?_’ his mind unhelpfully supplied before, his brows furrowing, the man cried out “oohhhh~! This is my jam~!” and turned up the car’s radio full blast, the pulsing, pop-rock western song thudding through the speakers as they made a sharp turn and headed for the freeway.

Heh…

Well, as normal dates for his age-group went (not that he’d read about such things _too_ much before heading to bed) this was pretty standard, wasn’t it?

“ _Woo~! Yeah, baby move me like a satellite… you’re my sexy kryptonite, yyyeeeeaaahhhhhhh~!!_ ”

Hmm…

Maybe Dabi had been right…

“ _Spin it, turn it, rock it, lock it, dynamite… your body’s out of sight, wwwoooooooo~!!_ ”

He _should_ have grabbed some ear-plugs before heading out tonight, shouldn’t he?

~*~

By the time the car pulled into a parking lot which overlooked the beach, Shouta was _pretty_ sure he’d not suffered any permanent hearing loss as he got out of the vehicle and took in the sun-set over the water.

Considering he lived so relatively close to this stretch of water and sand he’d never spent a full day here; hmm, it’d be nice to bring the tots for a day-trip when the heat died down a bit, wouldn’t it?

He knew that Inko would be game and, so long as they brought some parasols with them (he, like many people of Japan, didn’t understand what the western-world’s obsession with _tanning_ was; sure, he couldn’t argue that there wasn’t an aesthetic appeal _but_ , to him? The risks associated with sun-exposure _greatly_ out-weighed the perks) the teens would probably come, too.

“That’s quite the view, huh?”

Turning to the slightly taller man, his left-hand having tugged his bobble free, the café owner smiled; “yeah… since I’m usually surrounded by so many sky-rises it’s… really _freeing_ to see so much open sky in so many colours” he mused: “so… are we going for a walk, or…”

“Heh, we can on the way back to the car, if you like” Hizashi grinned, his gaze eyeing the sand sceptically; “maa~ I’m more of a city-kid, you know? Getting gritty, itchy sand between my toes and _other places_ isn’t my idea of fun but hey? Anything for you, Shou-chan~!”

“O-oh, no… no it’s fine” he stated whilst walking around the large, sleek vehicle to follow him; “I wouldn’t want to make you uncomfortable” he furthered as they turned their back on the magnificent sun-set and walked towards the promenade. 

“Heh~! You’re so sweet~!” the Pro smiled; “okay… d’you have any idea why we’re here, hmm?”

‘ _Not to stroll romantically down the beach, clearly… heh, I knew that the stupid, melodramas Itsu-san used to watch instead of looking after me and the others were full of shit_ ’ he thought, his eyes looking around the various shops, bars and restaurants they were walking past. “Can’t say that I do” he mused; “are we getting sushi?”

“Nope~! Good try, though” the blonde snickered; “it’s not that I don’t like traditional foods but, ugh, all of the squiggly bits and tentacles… yeah… _no thanks~!_ ”

Chuckling as the man wiggled his fingers to imitate the sea-life he was talking about, Shouta nodded his agreement whilst looking around at the bustling area peppered with couples and groups of people their age all milling about and flitting in and out of places to purchase souvenirs, street-food and fruit-smoothies.

“Are we visiting the Aquarium?”

“Pssh~! Boring~!” the other countered before nodding to one of the busier streets ( _goody_ ); “oh no, my friend, you and I are gonna be VIPs at a little club down this a way where a _very_ good friend of mine is doing a small-set but _shh~!_ ” he stage-whispered, his hands waving in dramatic, abortive gestures. “This is a private gig, ya dig?” he preened; “I had to pull _quite_ a few strings to get us tickets but I know a guy who _knows a guy_ , you know?”

‘ _Not really?_ ’ he thought, his dark eyes roaming around a livelier area where people dressed up in the same, trendy-styles that his _date_ was wearing had already queued up, his mind becoming a little… self-conscious?

It wasn’t as though he cared what he looked like, really (because that’d be illogical); however, when they approached a stern-looking, four-armed bouncer who guarded the line texting, chatting twenty-somethings and a red-velvet rope-boundary, he was aware of people staring at him and Hizashi as they approached the brute.

Hmm…

He hoped that he didn’t show the other up by being dressed so casually, the “Copa Cabaña Club” (which looked like a beach-shack you’d see in American movies) with its multicoloured neo-sign, servers in Hawaiian shirts and drinks menus (posted outside in multicoloured, neo borders alongside posters showing off various performers he didn’t know) hosting cocktails.

 _Cocktails_ loaded with all kinds of juices, alcohol and… plastic toys, umbrellas and fruit?

Huh…

“Eyy, my main man, Boshi~!” the blonde greeted the seven-foot giant stood so imperiously behind the roped off barrier (he was trying _not_ to focus on the queueing people baulking, staring and gawking at them as they stood there; damn, he wouldn’t have minded joining the back) whilst pulsing music thudded behind the door the bruiser guarded.

“Yamada-san” the white, tank-top wearing man nodded, cobalt eyes narrowing at him as he struggled not to cross his arms, fidget...

“Heh, where’d you find this one, eh? He’s a cutie but, _ugh_ , ain’t he a little more _emo-goth_ than your usual guests? Neh, what happened to that other, pretty little-twink you were here with a few weeks ago, hmm?”

 _Or_ turn around and run in the opposite direction…

“H-ha~! Haa… Boshi~ you big, ol’kidder, you~!” the Pro laughed, his cheeks pinking; “ _this_ is Aizawa Shouta, he’s a reputable businessman _and_ someone who could kick _both_ of our asses, so mind your manners” he introduced: “and _we_ should be on Ikki’s VIP list, right?” he pushed, his teeth grit a little as he fought of his embarrassment.

Heh…

He wasn’t surprised that the other man was so popular; he was _just_ as sunny as his name suggested, attractive, young and a licensed hero besides.

“Umm, yep… there you are, so please head on through” the bouncer nodded with another bow after he removed the roped barrier and waved them past him and towards the shuddering-door; “it was nice to meet you, Aizawa” he finished with a wink and a snicker.

God…

He’d never felt more uncomfortable in his life…

~*~

Entering the _venue_ …

“ _What do you wanna drink, ah?!_ ”

Had been a loud and disorientating experience…

“ _What?!_ ”

Hell, he thought that their nearest mall’s gaming-arcade (the one his teenagers liked to frequent) was noisy and overly colourful; shit, that manga-spattered place had _nothing_ on the Americana-themed area he was being pulled through right now. The small tables (which littered the vast, rectangular space with _just_ enough room for the perky servers to walk through) were crowded around a small stage (loaded with sound equipment, lighting rigs and instruments) in a wide, bracket shape, to make space for the strangest dance-floor he’d ever seen…

“ _Drink?! You want a cocktail?! They’re good~!!_ ”

The place was _packed_ full of people in various states of drunkenness; some were wearing flowered-lei necklaces (heh, he could imagine Ochaco, Tsuyu, Denki and Eijiro fawning over such things), others had grass-skirts tied around their waists and some were drinking from straw-laced gold-fish bowls.

God…

“ _I don’t drink alcohol~!!_ ”

There were even a few, rowdier couples (how very… Western) already flouncing around the dance-floor which rotated (shit, that couldn’t be safe, could it?) in front of the stage, their forms aglow with florescent bracelets, necklaces and halos.

“ _Mocktail, then~?!_ ” 

Then, as they _finally_ got to the bar (he’d never liked having to push and shove his way anywhere and, holy shit, _how_ much were these jokers charging for a simple bottle of water?!), Shouta regarded the wide-spanning menu bewilderedly.

No _wonder_ people his age didn’t have any money.

Was _this_ pricelist considered reasonable?

“ _Eyy~! Shi-chan~! Two Virgin Pina-coladas, por favor~!_ ”

Trying his best not to grumble (Hizashi had clearly put a lot of thought and effort into this date; this was something someone his age was _meant_ to enjoy and he _shouldn’t_ be ungrateful or _want_ to go home), the café owner _very nearly_ went to viciously elbow whomever had just grabbed his backside, his eyes flashing red in warning.

‘ _Remember what you tell the kids… reacting to such things with physical violence _isn’t_ the right thing to do…_’

However, when the taller, broader man winked at him and wandered off he was _very_ tempted to stalk after him.

‘ _Tch, yeah… you better fuck off, bastard_ ’ he thought; it was dickheads getting away with such things that, to him, led to escalations in sexual-assault and other awful things.

Damn…

He shouldn’t have allowed him to walk away _but_ he could no longer see him within the sea of people and he doubted that the bouncers could or would do anything even if he reported it.

Shit…

He _hated_ places like this…

“ _Here you go~!_ ”

Looking back to his date (and hoping that he didn’t look too disgruntled), he took the strange, ceramic-totem looking _jug_ (rammed full of sparkly bits, skewered fruits and an umbrella; thank God there was a straw… not that he was particularly looking forward to tasting the heavily perfumed drink) and allowed the older man to take his free hand.

“ _We’ve got a table reserved… hang tight, okay?!_ ”

Nodding (and trying not to cringe or spill the beverage he’d been given), Shouta tried to focus on where his feet were going as they weaved through the crowds and made their way, small mercies, to a seated area that was roped off.

“ _Well?! What do you think?!_ ”

‘ _Oh… you don’t want an honest answer to that, do you?_ ’ he thought whilst trying his best to smile at him.

“ _It’s… something different!_ ” he called (and hell, how in the world were they supposed talk or get to know each other in such a place; or maybe… maybe that was just his own, old-fashioned thinking? This is what people his age were supposed to do and like, weren’t they?); “ _who’s Ikki-san?_ ”

“ _Oh she’s great~!!_ ” the other yelled back; “ _that was her song on the radio when were driving here, you know~?!_ ”

Ahh…

 _Goody_ …

~*~

Ikki-san’s _set_ had been _blessedly_ short; although the two hours he’d sat there had made it feel infinitely longer. Hizashi, and yes, he felt guilty for declining, had tried to get him to dance a few times; he’d waved him off, his hand gesturing to another young man who’d been making eyes at the jade-eyed Pro from the second they’d sat down: they’d looked good together.

Therefore, at 22:00, he’d assumed that they’d be going back to the car.

“ _Wah?! But it’s _so_ early and you haven’t danced once, Shou-chan~!!_”

“ _I’ve got work tomorrow, remember?_ ” he replied, his smile sheepish against the flashing lights and booming music; “ _and the kids are expecting me home soon, too, you know?_ ”

Blinking (and then face-palming), the hero shook his head ruefully, his face embarrassed; “ _ahh~! Sorry! You’re right~! Follow me~!_ ” 

Once again running the gauntlet of the (somehow) more crowded area, Shouta caught sight of the slender (pouting) brunette who’d been enjoying a dance or five with his date and frowned a little.

There was no reason for his reluctance and responsibilities to get in the way of Hizashi’s fun, was there?

Nodding to himself, the cooler, cleaner night air filling his lungs as they exited past a chuckling Bishi, the eatery owner sucked in another deep breath whilst, beside him, the other tried to smile at him, their bodies stood on the still lively high-street.

“Ahh… I’m sorry, Shouta” he sighed, his tone thoroughly dejected as he folded his arms, this previously joyous lips marred by a light frown; “you hated every minute of that, didn’t you?”

“No, not at all” he replied honestly, their eyes locking as he stood a little straighter whilst shoving his hair back up; “it was really thoughtful of you to bring me here” he reasoned: “this is clearly one of your favourite places and you wanted to share that with me” he chuckled. “ _I’m_ the one who should be apologising” he admitted with a mild shrug, his expression self-deprecating; “I’m not the best in social situations and I’ve never, you know, been into this kind of thing” he admitted a little guiltily. “If… if I’d had a normal childhood then I probably would have been” he mused; “but still… this was a really interesting experience” he grinned: “and, if I’m not mistaken, there’s someone a little love-sick for you in there who could give you even more interesting experiences, if you’re lucky” he chuckled.

“W-who… oh, ugh… yeah, sorry… I shouldn’t have…”

“ _Hizashi_ ” he breathed, his right hand reaching for the other’s left and giving it a squeeze; “ _I_ don’t want to get in the way of you having a good time… I loved watching you enjoying yourself” he told him kindly: “you are an incredible dancer and you were singing along to those songs so passionately” he complimented. “Please don’t let me stop you from going back in there and having a good time, alright?” he smiled; “it _is_ early and hey, it’s not as though we can’t go out again, together, some other time… maybe, ugh, somewhere a _little_ quieter?”

“Heh… you… you’re sure? You mean it?” the blonde blinked; “ahh… but it’d be… you know… _really_ rude and wrong of me to just leave you—"

“I’m not in the habit of saying things that I don’t mean” he interrupted fondly; “I can catch a cab… but do me a favour and leave your car here if you start drinking, okay?”

“Ha~! You got it, cat-dad” he laughed, the pair indulging in a hug; then, as they pulled away, the freshly turned twenty-two-year-old rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly: “you really are amazing, Shouta” he stated warmly. “I… I feel like such a silly, little kid next to you, I mean…” he said, his tone a little shy; “here you are, still twenty-one and running a successful business, raising three kids and looking after the rest of us besides, I…” he sighed. “Text me when you’re home safe?”

“Of course” he replied pleasantly; “don’t forget to come by tomorrow to pick up the rest of your cake, okay?”

~*~

Deciding to go for a quick walk (he’d called for a cab to pick him up at the car-park; the driver was ten minutes away) across the sands (he’d kept his boots on; he didn’t think that the taxi driver would appreciate him having sandy, wet feet in her or his vehicle), the erasure quirk user looked up at the flawless, star speckled sky and let out a breath.

He didn’t take the time to enjoy such things enough, did he?

No…

And there was just something about the soothing lapping of gentle waves against the cool, water-darkened sand and the light breeze chasing away the oppressive heat of the day, wasn’t there?

Oh yes, the more he thought about it, the more he wanted to bring all of his precious people here; hell, maybe he could even entice them to come for a walk with him down the sands on an evening?

Just like he had so, so long ago…

Yes; he remembered, with great fondness, how he’d brought his first clutch of little brothers here on the spring and early-summer afternoons when he was fourteen as Itsu-san’s drunken stupors began earlier and earlier in a day, giving them the freedom to go out exploring without any slurred, rambling repercussions.

Upon reflection, even though they’d had no money and only a few thread-bare towels, coming here and playing in the waves had formed some of his happiest memories.

Then, when his studies had come calling, their visits grew less and less.

He hoped that it hadn’t been too selfish of him to prioritise his education at that time?

Hmm…

* **Bzz-bzz-bzz-bzz** *

Looking to his phone (his cab was two minutes away), he took one last look out across the ocean, turned around and made his way to the parking-lot, his mind and heart a little lighter at the thought of going home…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now please... hear me out, okay?
> 
> I have NOTHING against EraserMic; in fact, in canon? I see them as a great, opposite-attracts couple, you know? They went to UA together, lost their best-friend together and, personally? If not for Hizashi, I think canon Shouta would be even more of an anti-social mess... Shouta probably wouldn't have become a teacher, either, and so I have ALL THE LOVE for our boy Yamada...
> 
>  _However_ , my Shouta, his circumstances and life are VASTLY different to canon Aizawa and Hizashi, well? He's a twenty-two-year old, attractive, energetic, party-enthusiast, DJ and Pro Hero, isn't he? 
> 
> Therefore, as much as they're going to be VERY GOOD friends, I don't see them being romantically compatible here, at the moment... but hey, this fic isn't even half-way through AND I have time-jumps planned so, you never know, right?
> 
> ; 3
> 
> And so... we've reached Izuku's seventh birthday...
> 
> (Yay)
> 
> And a certain visit from a certain man...
> 
> (Boo~!)
> 
> *Crack knuckles*
> 
> Okay, let's do this~!!
> 
> Oh... and for anyone who's like "umm... WHY didn't the murder-twins shovel-talk Mic" well... 
> 
> THEY DID~!
> 
> All will be explained in the next chapter~!
> 
> XD
> 
> Fufufufufufuuuuuuu~!


	45. To Restore the Friendship of Kaachan and Deku…

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Warnings include: a smidge of angst, reflections on dating/expectations/cultural differences, confronting and challenging past behaviour/actions, growing-up/maturity, my VERY basic knowledge of D &D with...**   
>  **FFFFFFFFFFFFEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEELLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLSSSSSSSSSSSS~!**
> 
> Tissues?
> 
> Yes... tissues would be good...
> 
> ;_;

* **PM created a New Chat: Daters_United:- LC, M, AM and SNE were added to the chat** *

PM: *“Hey… so, I crashed and burned, guys… ☹”*

PM: *Forwarded a Message*

PM: *“Also… Nemu-chan? Did _you_ get anything like this before your date?”*

** *Forwarded Message* **

DabiDabs: *“Hey, since you chickened out and _didn’t_ wait for us to get downstairs to talk to you _Mic_ , just _know_ that we will shut you down if you push your luck tonight, okay? Don’t think that we don’t see through your ‘ _harmless, tactile, touchy-feely bull-shit_ ’, alright?””

TommyTomura: *“It’ll be hard for you to be handsy without any hands, won’t it?””*

M: *“Aww~! They’re SO CUTE, aren’t they?”*

PM: *“Cute?”*

M: *“They’re protecting their cat-dad, silly~!”*

SNE: *“Why have you created a chat without Shouta in it and are you alright?”*

PM: *“Oh… ugh, you know… to give you guys a ‘heads-up’ because… well, let’s just say that I’m currently out with someone else and the cat-dad has got home safe… I don’t know what I was thinking, really? We’re so different and I was too wrapped up in wanting to impress him to realise it, you know?”*

LC: *“Hey man, don’t beat yourself up… dating’s not meant be easy and I’m sure it’s not as bad as you think!”*

AM: *“Loud Cloud is right, my friend~! You’re such a lively, thoughtful fellow~! Please don’t feel despondent… this is all in the name of fun, isn’t it?”*

M: *“You heard the Number 1 Pro, sweetie~! It’s the thought that counts~! Where did you take him? Who are you with now? Ohh~! I want the deets~!”*

PM: *“Heh… maybe later, Nemu-chan…”*

M: *“Nu-uh~! Cloud and me are heading over to your location now, okay?”*

PM: *“You sure? Well that’s… yeah, I’d like that! Thanks guys 😊”*

AM: *“Have fun you young, scallywags~!”*

M: *“Wah~!! You’re so cute, DadMight~!!”*

LC: *“Oohhh~! _That’s_ totally your name now~!”*

SNE: *“It does have a certain ring to it…”*

AM: *“You’re all too kind~!”*

~*~

Walking into his home, a quiet sigh leaving him (his ears were still ringing; shit…), Shouta double locked the doors, set the alarms and checked on his bread makers and rice-cookers before ambling his way upstairs, his shoeless feet padding into the airconditioned space as his shoulders relaxed.

“Hey Shou” the teenagers greeted from the sofa; “you want a drink, or something? You seem kind of wrung out” Dabi said, those turquoise eyes narrowing: “we don’t have to strangle a loud-mouthed cockatoo, do we?”

Snickering, he rounded the sofa and sat next to Tomura with a sigh; “I’d love a drink, please… there should be lemonade in the fridge” he stated before, his smile rueful. “Heh… I _finally_ learned just how out of touch I am tonight, though and _no_ , no strangling is needed for anyone, _thank you_ ” he admitted as the older teen got up to fetch him a glass whilst the decay quirk user blinked at him, his eyes narrowing.

“So… he didn’t try to get fresh with you, or anything?”

“Mm? Oh no, nothing like that… he was the perfect gentleman and tried to help me, well, live a little I guess?” he chuckled; “I’m _pretty_ sure he won’t be going home alone tonight if a certain, rose-eyed brunette has anything to say about it, so that’s something, at least” he mused, his hands gratefully receiving the cool beverage his first lodger presented him with.

“Tch, what? So… he _ditched_ you for someone else?” the flame quirk user bit out, his tone offended on his behalf whilst his partner narrowed his eyes.

“Ha~! No… no it was kind of the other way around” he soothed, his smile dimming; “I felt… _really_ awful leaving him and heading home but, well? He took me to a small, crowded, _American_ club to listen to one of his favourite singers” he told them. “He just wanted to share something that our age group are supposed to want to do but… being honest? It was all too loud, showy and busy for me” he sighed; “you’ll have to start calling me cat-grandpa at this rate, huh?”

“It sounds like an actual nightmare to me… and you shouldn’t feel bad for knowing what you don’t like, you know?” Dabi hummed as he settled back onto the couch. “I’m glad that he’s not the smarmy prick I thought he was… heh, goes to show that you were right about not judging people on first impressions… I guess we can cut him... and the rest of them some slack now, right?”

“Yeah, as Pros go, they seem… _alright_ ” Tomura murmured before giving the raven-haired man a nudge with a snicker; “and hey… it could have been worse” he stated, a smile pulling his lips: “you could have _liked_ all of that shit and ditched us to go partying all the time, you know?”

~*~

The next week ploughed on with July’s heat driving more of his grateful customers inside for cooling drinks (he’d tried a cold-brewed, iced-coffee recipe he’d spied online and, happily, the blend of his classic-roast with honey, spices and ice-cream had gone down a real treat), cat-cuddles and complimentary ice-packs.

The study group were diligently working, his teenagers were thriving and, as he and Inko continued to conspire with the local Pros (Hizashi was his usual, enthusiastic self… if a little quieter when his friends weren’t in the café with him; shit… he felt like such a heel), he just knew that Izuku’s birthday would be a happy one.

The boy hadn’t asked for much by way of presents (such a thoughtful, selfless, considerate child) and had been delighted when he’d shown him a mock-up of the “All Might” cake he was going to make for him.

The Symbol of Peace, his side-kick, Tomoko and the others had all been blown away by it, too.

Oh yes, he was greatly looking forward to seeing how it’d all turn out and, since _everyone_ was able to make Izuku’s party (they’d promised to fuss over all of the tots, Hitoshi and Denki especially since their birthdays weren’t that long ago) there’d be no dates this coming Sunday.

In fact, the more he thought about it, the more he was grateful to just have some time together as a group of adults overseeing the children; what’d happened between himself and Hizashi hadn’t dampened his desire to keep trying out new things _but_ drawing things out, taking his time and having something to look forward to, well?

It was… _exciting_.

He’d never been more flattered in his life, more pleasantly surprised, more _overwhelmed_ by the kindness and generosity of people…

People he’d just wanted to help… who wanted to help him in return, he…

Outside of his first four brothers and his parents, he… he’d never really known that…

Heh…

He was really, pretty lucky, wasn’t he?

~*~

When Sunday morning arrived, a was tradition on special occasions, the tots’ self-defence class took a back seat; they were all proficient in the basics for their sizes and weight by now and, after talking to Moto-sensei, he was going to approach them all about taking a Jujutsu course with him over the summer. Yes, if he could work them up to brown, potentially black belts and beyond before middle-school, then they’d all have a better chance to attend hero courses (if that’s what they all still wanted by then) and be able to protect themselves (and others) besides, quirks or no.

He’d gotten up as his usual time and, after a quirk wash, a check of his teens and the food he’d made for the party, he’d jogged out to meet with Katsuki (Mitsuki had allowed her son to sleep over at the Midoriya’s; they were in such a good place right now and he couoldn’t be happier for either child) for their usual run.

Izuku, who’d normally be powering along beside them, had been _too_ excited by the idea of his party to sleep and so Inko had text him that she was letting him lie-in; heh, it was kind of adorable, wasn’t it? Whilst Hitoshi, on the other hand, was busily wrapping up presents; he’d given the kid an allowance (he _was_ the Assistant Manager, after all) and the three teens (a little posse in the making) had taken him shopping for his “ _other, other, other best friend’s_ ” gifts yesterday whilst he oversaw the café.

Heh, such good kids.

“Neh, Shou-nii?”

Blinking out of his thoughts and looking down at the crimson-eyed blonde keeping up with the pace he’d set (he was becoming stronger and faster every day; he’d also grown in maturity and no longer saw emotions as a weakness: God… he was so proud), Shouta grinned at him. “Yes Katsuki?”

“I’ve been thinking” the boy said; “an’ well, since you _always_ listen to us ‘cus our folks are busy and the teachers think we’re just silly kids” he huffed, his eyes rolling: “can… can I ask your opinion about something?”

“Of course, you can” he replied, their legs never breaking stride, their forms looping around the apartment complex for a third time.

“Do… do you think I’m cut out to be a hero?”

Blinking (and nearly tripping over a crack on the cement-slab sidewalk because _where_ the hell had that come from?), the eatery owner slowed their combined pace a little; “I think you’re _more_ than cut out for it” he replied honestly. “You’re intelligent, compassionate, brave and resourceful” he praised; “and you’ve come a very long way from the angry young man I first met back in May” he furthered: “all of your friends in your study group believe in you too, don’t they I… oh, hey… _hey_ , Katsuki” he breathed when the boy stopped, his eyes tearing.

Jogging back to him and sinking to his knees to appraise the child (usually so confident, so sure of himself; he’d suspected that that was a front to a certain extent but, to see him now? He was worried the problem ran far deeper), Shouta allowed him to take a few, shuddering breaths.

“That’s it… focus on centring yourself… remember, there is nothing wrong being upset, okay?” he said soothingly, his hand reaching into his shorts’ back pocket for a napkin (heh, he knew that keeping some on his person would come in handy one day); “now… would you like to talk about this some more?” he asked.

He knew that conversing about feelings (God; he’d come _such_ a long, long way though, hadn’t he?) was still something that his most head-strong tot struggled with.

Hmm…

“S-some… some older kids… the… the big-g brothers of some kids at school, they” he managed to get out, his little hands balling into fists; “ _they_ said my… _my_ quirk is… is an _evil_ one and… and that I’m… I’m too scary to… to be a _hero_ … that… that I’ll be like that… that _Endeavour_ bastard who-o no… no one l-likes…” he sputtered angrily.

“An’ I… _I_ … I can’t h-help w-who I am o-or my q-quirk and… my mom… my mom says I… I s-shouldn’t le’em’get to me cus… cus _I’m **way**_ s-s-stronger th-an-n them but… but _I_ … I don’t _wanna_ b-be scary, Shou-nii… an’ w-when I… I th-hink abo-ut D-Deku I… I feel r-real b-bad and then T-Toshi and he… He’s been t-t-through lots an’ I… I think I annoy him and E-Eiji? D-does… does he even, really _l-like me_ or… or…”

Opening his arms, he let out a sigh of relief (for both of them) as the child (whose mother was well meaning but, not that he could or would judge, was perhaps too boisterous in her encouragement of her son whilst his father, from what he could gather, was relatively quiet and worked long hours) _finally_ released all of the fears and worries he had about himself.

“I’m so… _so_ proud of you Katsuki” he breathed into the shuddering child’s hair; “I know that that probably sounds quite strange to you now but… you’re _really_ flourishing into the kind of young man a Number 1 Pro should be” he smiled down into his teary face. “You’re becoming consciously aware that what you do and say has an effect on others and you _want_ to change for the better… you may be too young to realise this just now, but that is an _incredibly_ rare and powerful thing to want” he told him fondly.

“R-really?”

“ _Really_ ” he affirmed; “you know that I’m not in the habit of saying things that I don’t mean” he reminded: “and… I know and understand what your mom was trying to say about being strong” he stated. “I believe that was talking about your strength of will, your courage and determination… you and I and _everyone_ who loves you _also_ **knows** that you would _never_ become a man like the flame-bearded _wonder_ , okay?” he assured. 

Then, carefully easing the boy back to his face and dabbing at his eyes, he placed a brotherly hand upon his shoulder; “I’m sorry that those older boys tried to make you feel bad… and I’m sorrier still that bullies are still present in our society” he mused. “And… as _difficult_ as it can be… my advice to you would be to try your best to ignore them, surround yourself with your friends, allow _their_ opinions to be the ones that enter your mind and stay there” he suggested. “It can be… really hard to do… and it’ll take a great deal of practise” he advised; “but you’ve _never_ been afraid of hard-work, challenges and meeting such things head on, have you?”

“N-no” he sniffed, his little face determined.

“That’s right” he agreed; “now… as for the other things you mentioned” he gently hedged: “Eijiro, as far as I can tell? I believe that he thinks the world of you… and it’s not just because you make such good sparring partners or share a great deal of interests” he chuckled. “He _wants_ to be your side-kick, Katsuki… he _wants_ to be at your side to help and support **you** , not just your ambitions” he offered. “He’s told all of us how he struggles to fit in at his school and that lots of people he tried to be friends with didn’t think he was special, that his quirk wasn’t special either, remember? But _you_ saw how great he was right away, didn’t you?”

“Y-yeah… it… it’s _so_ obvious, I mean… no one’s smile can beat his and he’s so kind, and generous, too” he argued, his little arms folding angrily on the other’s behalf; “tch… Tomu-nii is right” he huffed out: “most people are idiots…”

“Heh, yeah… that too” he grinned; “but idiots can learn and _idiots_ can be swayed by good examples to learn, grow and change for the better, can’t they?” he furthered. “And you’re going to be a great example to the next generation of heroes who come after you _just_ as you’re becoming a better example, every day, to the people you’ve welcomed into your heart” he said, his fingers giving that slender, muscular shoulder a little squeeze. “Don’t ever forget that we all believe in you, alright?”

“A-alright” the other stated, that fierce, little smile returning before his expression become resolute; “I… I’m gonna apologise, _properly_ , to Deku today” he breathed: “and I’m gonna ask Toshi if we can talk more, you know? I… I want to be a better friend to both of them, to all of them” he admitted, his eyes shining.

“I wanna be just like you, Shou-nii…”

~*~

Returning to the café (they’d talked over a “ _plan of apology and better friendship attack~!_ ” because, well? Katsuki was who he was, wasn’t he? He probably shouldn’t find it so cute, but he did), he made them both some breakfast (whilst portioning up tamagoyaki, miso and fruit-salad for his teens) and headed upstairs.

Upon entering the living space, Dabi (a little bleary-eyed; heh, who said that playing video-games was relaxing?) waved at them as he shuffled from his room to the bathroom with a wide yawn, his oversized pyjamas slanting as he walked. 

However, from the sounds of snoring still filtering into the air, he was _pretty certain_ that Tomura was still down for the count.

Well, it was only 07:47 and he supposed that most people liked to ‘sleep-in’ on a weekend.

Heh…

What must it be like to actually look forward to, enjoy and feel the benefit of sleep, he wondered…

Hmm…

“Okay” he smiled, Hitoshi’s breakfast tray balanced across his arms; “are you ready?”

Nodding determinedly, they approached the iris-haired boy’s closed door, Katsuki’s determined hand giving it three, gentle knocks.

“C-come in… _ahh_ … stupid, _impossible_ Sellotape… _how_ does this keep happening?”

Chuckling, he shouldered the door open, the pair walking in to find the voice quirk user sat at his desk, his fingers desperately plucking at the roll of tape he’d loaned him whilst, across the table stowed under the window, brightly-coloured wrapping paper, action figures and an All Might cushion sat.

“Oh, hey Kaachan” he smiled before returning to his efforts to part the sticky substance; “umm~! Breakfast smells great Shou-nii, thank you~!”

“You’re welcome, Toshi” he replied whilst depositing the tray onto the tot’s neatly made futon (such a good kid), his eyes tracking the blonde as he moved, his hands grabbing up a pair of elementary-school scissors as he went.

“Here… there’s a trick you can use when you can’t find the edge” he offered, his smile growing more pleased when the other boy blinked, handed over the roll and eagerly watched; “see? If you make a lil slit across it here and… here, then you can peal off the right size of tape you need…”

“Wah~! That’s such a good idea, thank you” the slightly taller child gasped; “neh… would you mind helpin’ me with the rest?”

“Sure.”

Grinning to himself, the café owner quietly made his exit as the tots went about covering up Izuku’s presents together, the crimson eyed boy slowly easing into the conversation he wanted to have.

Heh…

Small, small mercies…

~*~

At 10:00 the birthday boy (well, it should _technically have been tomorrow_ but, as Dabi had pointed out… celebrating one thing on a set day wasn’t as good as stretching it over a longer amount of time because every day should count as good one: and he’d be sure to keep the flame quirk user’s _good days_ coming) arrived at the café.

All Might, himself, had made his way to the Midoriya’s apartment to escort him over; the look on his elated, freckled face had been too joyous to described.

And, although he’d greatly enjoyed their version of a water-park, the emerald haired tot’s desires for his party had been simple, sweet and doable.

At 10:30, the additional D&D expansion packs that Sir Nighteye had sourced (he was something of an aficionado in the game, apparently) combined with the two study-tables and one of the booths had made for a truly magical set up.

Midnight, Ragdoll, Loud Cloud and Present Mic had worked with Nedzu to source costumes (from wizard hats to cloaks and amulets) for the children (and any adults who wanted in on the costumed-fun) to wear and the teens had set up three tournaments to fill their morning with.

Sir Nighteye, of course, was the DM for the smaller, adult table whilst Tomura would oversee the tots on the biggest work-surface and the white furred teacher, that manic glint in his eye, had challenged the awesome Pro foursome to a match under his… “ _complete, total and undisputed **mastery** of the Dungeon World~!!_”

Needless to say that the whole thing had been…

“ _Fear my wrath, peasants~!_ ”

Interesting.

He’d been roped into a game, of course; he and Inko had watched, bewilderedly, as the competition between Mitsuki’s “Barbarian Queen” and All Mights “Infallible Paladin” had grown more heated whilst Sir Nighteye, his cool composure only ever breaking into a smirk every so often, played the pair like instruments to his indominable will.

To say that what he and the mild-mannered woman had witnessed (because, although they _were_ taking part, both had found their movements and understanding of the dice, traps and _spells_ a little confusing and, for him? _Illogical_ ) something quite…

“ _Nnnnoooooo~! You **tricked me** into opening that chest, you nefarious fiend~!_”

“Ahh, senpai… your enthusiasm is both your greatest boon and most devastating weakness… now, I’ll be taking _all_ of your gems, please… yes, even the ones you’ve sneaked under the table… _thank you_.”

Intense would be an understatement…

Heh; it’d been fun to see everyone so beguiled by something that didn’t need fancy gadgets, electricity and special-effects.

Loud Cloud made a dashing wizard, Hizashi (his cockatoo bandana proudly displayed across his neck) was a King (an overly jewelled crown glinted in his flaxen hair) whilst Midnight and Tomoko had added elven-ears, beaded necklaces and capes to their looks to become joint Empresses of an Elfin Kingdom.

Tomura had _loved_ deep-purple, velvet, hooded cowl Nedzu had offered him whilst he, Dabi and Inko had opted for little things (she was wearing a tiara, the flame quirk user had chosen a silver coronet dotted with plastic sapphires and he, of course, was wearing one of Ragdoll’s cat-eared headbands) to play along with.

Sir Nighteye and the teacher were similarly enrobed with mystic-styled pieces, the oldest Bakugo had horded several necklaces and bracelets whilst All Might, his smile elated, wore a chain-mail bib (it would be a doublet on anyone else) whilst, in his two _bunny-ears_ of golden hair, he’d asked him to clip a little sword and shield.

It’d been one of the best experiences he’d ever had and, as Spinner rallied the tots (his long, purpled hair sprinkled with glitter as he waved a wand), the cats watched them all from their enclosure and the air-conditioning continued to soothe them all, he couldn’t have been more pleased at the jubilant smile gracing Izuku’s face.

~*~

When lunch time came, he’d brought out the cake to thunderous applause, cheering, whistling and flashing-camera apps on various phones and tablets.

Strawberry, vanilla and banana-cream was sandwiched between a milk-chocolate sponge that’d been cut into a classic, All Might pose; he’d frosted and decorated it to resemble the man in one of the child’s _favourite_ photos.

He’d used black-food colouring to add the harsher lines brought out by the Pro having swam in vinegar to save a child.

The look upon his _actual_ visage when he’d seen it had been priceless.

Then, as they shared out sandwiches, soba, onigiri and bowls of the child’s favourite, pork-cutlet ramen (that he’d assisted Inko making in his kitchen), he’d given the nod to Katsuki who’d quietly approached the tot and led him to the cat-enclosure for their talk.

He’d subtly passed along to the adults that the blonde had wanted to resolve certain issues between them and so, ever the life and soul of the party, their country’s Symbol of Peace had asked the other tots to show him “ _some of your best moves, future heroes~!_ ” outside.

Sir Nighteye and Nedzu, similarly interested, had joined them whilst the local Pros invited themselves to watch the teens engage in an RPG campaign on the dinosaur-console, the seven of them slowly growing louder in their conversations, directions and observations as the game progressed.

He, Inko and Mitsuki had decided to slowly but surely clean-up within earshot of the enclosure, just in case.

The oldest Bakugo had been shocked into tears to learn that her child was wanting to confront some of his past mistakes in the interest of strengthening his friendship.

He’d watched as the emerald haired woman had embraced her and not resisted when he’d been pulled into the hug, himself.

The fractured relationship between the two boys, it seemed, wasn’t the only friendship that was healing…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Deep, deep breath*
> 
> Tomorrow... _he_ arrives...
> 
> We ALSO get the Kaachan/Deku talk, yo~!
> 
> It's gonna be... _emotional_...
> 
> XD


	46. Talks… Part 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Warnings include: a smidge of angst, swearing, AFO (because he's a warning ALL by himself), reflections on hero society/what makes a villain and...**
> 
> **FFFFFFFFEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEELLLLLLLLLSSSSSSSS~!!**
> 
> **Umm...**
> 
> **Cliff-hanger ending?**
> 
> **CLIFF-HANGER ENDING~!**
> 
> Talks... Part 2 = tomorrow~!
> 
> *Throws herself behind the sofa*

Scampering into the cat-enclosure (he wasn’t… _pensive_ , per say but… Kaachan didn’t normally ask to talk to him when everyone else was around and he hoped… he _really_ , truly hoped that he’d not done anything wrong or upset him, again, in some way) Izuku wandered towards two of the cube stools, many cats following in his wake.

His former (still?) best friend wasn’t far behind him, his face determined as he took the other seat whilst Bakusatsugo and Red Riot boisterously bounded around his bare feet before Hero, Kero and Raijin all lolloped over to join in the greeting.

Hotaru was watching the display from where he’d curled into Homura who was, similarly, sleeping into Hahaue’s side along with Jiji whilst Hime _somehow_ wrapped around them all in the back-corner atop one of the bigger beanbags.

“Deku” the crimson eyes child began, his lips wobbling a little as they regarded each other; “I… I want to say that I’m… I’m _real_ sorry for, well? Alla of the ways I’ve been mean to you since…” he broke off, his small hands bunching into fists as he struggled to get his words out. 

_Wait…_

“I… it was w-wrong for me to… to hurt you and… and make you feel bad when… you were already feelings bad and I… I didn’ know what to do… I was… I was _mad_ at you for breaking our promise to be heroes, together” he continued. 

_What…_

“A-and that… that was _so_ stupid and… and s-selfish of me, you know? A-and I was even _more_ stupid to… to think… to think that you _needed_ a quirk cus… cus you’re amazing without one, anyway” he stated. “And you _are_ amazing and you… you can be a doctor and a hero, you can be _anything_ , okay?”

He’d sat, watched the other boy, listened and taken everything in.

Was…

Was he dreaming?

Could the things he’d wished for, fervently, since that terrible, _awful_ day at the doctor’s office really have come true?

“K-Kaa… Kaachan?” he breathed.

Nodding, the boy got up and, instead of storming away or yelling at him for being _stupid_ or shoving him, the explosion quirk user held out his hand to him.

“D-do… will you accept my apology D… _Izuku_ , I… _ooffff~!_ ”

He’d surged up without thinking, his eyes rippled with some of the happiest tears he’d _ever_ experienced, his arms enfolding the boy he’d longed to reconnect with, had _prayed_ would one day accept him and want to rebuild the friendship they’d nearly lost through their shared regret, anger and confusion.

“O-of course I forgive you… Kaachan, I… you… you’re so… so amazing too and I… I’m so… _so_ glad that you d-d-don’t h-h-hate… m-me” he sniffled, his arms tightening their hold when the slightly taller boy hugged him back.

“I… I _never_ hated you Deku” he breathed quietly; “I… I’m sorry that you… you ever thought that I… I did” he told him softly: “S-Shou-nii was right I… I didn’t… I _couldn’t_ st-op thinkin a-about how you didn’t have a… and… and I… it was dumb of me… I s-should’a n-never let my anger make y-you feel bad” he admitted. “I s-should’a s-supported you like y-you’ve always… _always_ s-supported me… you… you’re the kind’a p-person I wanna be, you know?”

Nodding into the boy’s shoulder, they continued to hug for a few more minutes before slowly pulling away.

“I… I’ve had lots of great, _really_ great presents today” he told him, their eyes locking, their hands still holding onto each other; “but… but you’ve given me the… the _best_ present I c-could ever ask f-for, Kaachan” he offered, their grip on trembling fingers tightening: “t-thank you for a-acceptin me and… and for my being my friend” he said firmly.

“A-and we… we’re still _gonna_ be heroes, together, okay?”

~*~

The rest of Izuku’s birthday was, just as he’d predicted, wonderful and the tot had been inundated with All Might themed gifts which the big lug himself had signed with a winning smile and good humour. 

Oh yes, the soon to be true seven-year-old had had everything including a limited-edition poster that Sir Nighteye had provided alongside the 24month subscription to the Number 1’s official social-media platform which would give him and his friends tickets to special events and ‘ _behind the scenes_ ’ access at his shows, charity-events and TV interviews…

God; that sounded like a lot of work, didn’t it?

Then, the cake and food demolished, by 16:00 the kids were tuckered out from all of the excitement and collected by their parents (Izuku’s face had flushed _bright pink_ when Ochaco and Tsuyu had kissed his cheeks before leaving); Inko, alongside Mitsuki, however, had taken Hitoshi and their sons back to the Midoriya’s apartment.

They were _all_ eager to set up the emerald haired child’s online subscription and he’d waved them off with hugs before going about tidying his work-space.

The teens and Pros had helped him with the clean-up (he had a feeling he’d still be finding glitter a week from now) and then similarly made their way either home or to their Agencies (because heroing was a 24/7 thing, wasn’t it?) whilst Tomura and Dabi had settled into the cat enclosure. 

He’d nipped in for a few cuddles every so often (because what was the point in having a cat café if you couldn’t enjoy your feline family members?), filled their water dishes and emptied the litter trays (they’d been very lucky that Tomoko specialised in training; the kittens rarely had any _accidents_ now) and then headed out to re-check the eatery.

Seeing that it was spotless (or at least up to his exacting standards), he’d finished off his Monday food prep-work, had a quick shower and changed into his work-out clothes before, after checking on the teens (they were taking selfies with the cats; adorable), he made his way down to the Yoga Studio to set up for his adult classes.

What he _hadn’t_ expected was to find Nedzu, decked out in a shirt and tie, _casually_ waiting for him there.

“Hey?” he greeted; “would you like to join the first group, or…”

“Ahh~! I’m _so_ glad you’ve brought up the topic of _joining_ something~!” the older man cut in, a fierce glint in his eye; “I’ve still not given up on getting you a Pro-license, you know~!”

~*~

Working with his adults under the scrutiny (because, regardless of his friendly demeanour and how he’d just sat, _quietly_ , on a chair in the corner of the room sipping from a flask of tea he’d magicked up from somewhere) of the educational professional had been…

 _Awkward_.

Sure, he hadn’t minded and he _certainly_ wouldn’t have asked him to leave (unless any of his students, when asked, had not wanted to have an audience) but…

How many other ways could he find to say “ _no thanks_ ”?

It’s not that he wasn’t flattered and, yes, there were benefits to holding Pro Hero accreditation but…

 _But_ …

As wonderful as the local Pros were, as genuine was All Might and Sir Nighetey were _and_ as much as he adored the golden-eyed man’s sidekicks or helped his tots to reach that ambition, he…

He wasn’t sure, _really_ , if his original impressions of the profession had been changed.

At night-time, he and his boys would sit together and watch TV for an hour or so and, at least _once_ every evening, the shows they were watching abruptly cut off to bring some kind of “breaking-news”…

“Breaking-news” which normally involved some posing, caped, masked person playing up for the cameras with a busted-up building (and busted up ‘ _bad-guys_ ’) in the background whilst the police, genuinely struggling to get the ‘ _evil-doers_ into paddy-wagons struggled on. 

Similarly, the fire-crews, paramedics and civilians didn’t so much as get a look in, their ability to do their jobs (or live their lives; mother’s holding infants were barred from their homes, people with physical difficulties were pushed out of the way alongside older people by throngs of _fans_ ) hindered.

And sure, theoretically, he knew that holding a license _wouldn’t_ mean that he’d have to join an Agency and cover-shifts, however…

His mind just couldn’t get beyond the show-boating at the _heart_ of hero-culture.

He didn’t want to contribute to that world and, even though he’d nurtured and harboured a considerable amount of patience over his twenty-one years of life he knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that he’d end up butting heads with someone…

Or throwing hands, besides; there were too many arrogant pricks in that over-saturated society for his liking and, even though he now knew, _personally_ , that good people who did the job for the right reasons milled around amongst them, he…

He _couldn’t_ get past the hypocrisy…

He _couldn’t_ get past that heroes would sometimes go looking for trouble _just_ to boost their fame, approval ratings or _income_ …

Hell; he’d always wondered about the old adage “as long as there’s evil, good will rise up against it” because… what _was_ evil? _Who_ made that distinction?

Some people would call the route that Kimiko had taken to provide for her child as evil, wrong or disgusting…

Some people would look down at and arrest a thief for stealing food to feed themselves when they were starving…

 _Some_ people demonised and called a person evil _just_ because of what they looked like or what their quirk did and it was _their_ cruel words and bias which ostracised, dehumanised and broke down that person until they became what the people who disliked them feared most…

A villain…

A self-fulfilled prophecy…

A child who, unloved by their community, burned it down to feel its warmth…

Now, if hero-society (and the big-wigs behind it, their hands rubbing together greedily at the thought of merchandising, pre-paid interviews and ever-expanding profit-margins) looked more closely at those kinds of people, stopped to investigate _why_ they’d become the way they were…

If _all_ villains truly were megalomaniacs stealing huge sums of money, destroying property and killing, maiming or decimating people for their own selfish, self-centred reasons just because they _could_ or _wanted to_ , then…

Maybe he _would_ have said yes to Nedzu…

Maybe he _would_ more eagerly welcome some hero students to his classes and work with them…

Maybe he _wouldn’t_ feel a little, worried knot form in his stomach when the tots drew their hero-costumes or Spinner cringed when the Pros looked at him or Tomura turned away from the TV to scowl at his phone or Dabi glowered at the screen, his words spiked with distain whilst Hitoshi looked on, his face becoming pensive.

No…

 _No_ he couldn’t enter the sphere of heroics when there was still _so_ much wrong with it; therefore, he’d be his own kind of hero, the kind who listened first and hit out only if warranted, the kind who could love and look after the people that _most_ Pros wouldn’t bat an eye at…

“Well now, I must say that _that_ was an excellent class, Shouta-kun~!”

Blinking out of his thoughts, his hands reaching for his empty, reusable water-bottle, the café owner offered a little bow at the compliment before; “Nedzu? _Why_ are you so determined to get me onboard?”

“Umm?”

“I don’t mean to be blunt” he stated, his lips trying to smile; “but please… and be honest; _why_ do you want me to be licensed as a Pro?” he furthered. “Did All Might or Sir Nighteye suggest it?”

“Ahh~! Well, they told me a great deal about you, it’s true” the other agreed as they walked out of the studio together; “however… presenting you with this opportunity was all my doing” he explained with a grin before, after a little sigh: “those wonderful children who study at your café” he said. “They have told me a great deal about you, the kind of person you are, your ideals and… to some extent, your views on my initial profession” he mused; “and, my dear friend, _that_ got me thinking” he admitted.

“Oh?”

“Yes” he replied; “now… I’ll be the first to admit that hero-society is one of my greatest loves… I have dedicated my life to serving others and then had the opportunity to oversee the next generation at my alma-mater, _but_ ” he sighed, their forms now wandering back towards the Noraneko. “It was… refreshing to hear a different perspective and a point of view crafted by someone who, given different circumstances, could very well be a Pro Hero of great acclaim _but_ here you are, _not_ amongst my number; however, just _look_ at what you’re doing~!” he praised. “And please, don’t misunderstand my intentions, Shouta-kun… it wouldn’t be my purpose to change your mind, alter your ways or remove you from the people you love… heh, something tells me that they wouldn’t allow you to go, anyway~!” he giggled. “However… I would _very much_ like to bring you _onboard_ , as you called it, so that your voice could be added to the Hero Assembly and heard by those who _need_ the glamour dusted off of them” he stated with a nod. 

“It is… selfish of me, perhaps, but I’d like to spread the good that you do here… _farther_ ” he reasoned; “in a long dead language called Latin and in an ancient Empire long dead from Europe, it is said that some of the greatest, military leaders and rulers would often have someone following them to say "memento mori"… you are but a man” he said. “I believe, Shouta-kun, that we as Pros _need_ such a person… someone who isn’t a scathing media-critic or a dissident _but_ someone who talks the talk and walks the walk when it comes to alternative styles of building communities and protecting those who need protection” he grinned.

“This _is_ your choice, of course, and I’ll not bring this topic up for discussion again… for a while, at least” he chuckled whilst the eatery owner huffed out a laugh and ruefully rolled his eyes; “but… at least think about it, neh?”

~*~

Having his chauffer (a Nomu human looking enough to pass should anyone take a look) pull up a few blocks away, Shigaraki pocketed his phone, checked his reflection (yes, he made for a genteel, older man with this quirk, didn’t he?) and exited the vehicle with not a single crease in his fine, charcoal business suit.

Then, after taking a cursory look around, he found his mind once again pondering _why_ his ward, who he’d not directly contacted for a few months, had chosen to frequent such a little, cat-themed eatery in the back-waters of Musutafu.

He’d not raised his heir to follow whims and, the dashing young man he seemed enamoured with (who’d been blessed with an interesting and powerful quirk, if Kurogiri’s information gathering was to be believed) aside, outside of this place being so quiet and filled with uninteresting, rat-race running dullards who’d not recoil at his appearance, he failed to see the appeal.

However, since his business in this city was virtually concluded (for the time being), he saw no harm in visiting the ‘Noraneko’ to collect his wayward _nephew_ in person; he’d scheduled a flight for three days’ time and that, he was sure, would give the boy long enough to make up viable excuses to _Dabi_ before heading up north with him.

Therefore, the summer sun lightly shaded by a few, greying clouds, he casually walked down the street, his cerulean eyes casting to his Rolex (16:50; one of the quieter times for a Monday, apparently: salarymen and women along with MU students would flood the place at 18:00) whilst his Italian leather shoes padded him into view of the _‘cat-café_ ’.

How very… _quaint_.

Then, one of the _many_ powers he’d acquired over the years activating, he scanned the eatery with a hum.

Tomura didn’t seem to be there (he’d taken to going other places, as well?); however, when he clocked the burn-scarred teenager who his boy was so _friendly_ with behind the service-bar with ‘ _Aizawa Shouta_ ’, he knew that his quarry would be returning there at some point.

Furthermore, the red-yellow-white themed café seemed relatively empty; a scattering of small children were working at a long-table, a young woman was overseeing some elderly biddies in the sectioned off, cat-area and, aside from a pregnant woman, a scattering of middle schoolers and a couple of older-salarymen, he’d have the place to himself.

Heh.

 _Good_.

~*~

Entering the establishment, his eyes looking up to the little bell that chimed above him before he brandished his most charming smile, Shigaraki took a second to appreciate the cool, clean air before a myriad of (quite frankly _delicious_ ) aromas alighted across his senses.

Well, well…

How very unexpected.

“Good afternoon and welcome to the Noraneko café” the raven-haired man (tall, muscular, incredibly handsome and _more_ attractive still with a hint of a smile) greeted with a light bow ( _Dabi_ had left the service area as he’d approached, his scarred yet definitely appealing form have sauntered down to check on the young children); “what can I get you?”

Quirking his smile into something altogether friendly and well-meaning (a skill in itself _but_ a trait that’d served him well over the years; you drew in more flies with honey than vinegar, didn’t you?), All for One returned the bow before looking up at the (actually charming; he appreciated the rustic detail of such things) blackboard menu overheard.

“My goodness” he chuckled; “this eatery’s prices are incredibly considerate, young man” he added: “the owner must be a great advocate of charity, yes?”

“I don’t see the point in over-charging people” the other returned, those soft lips allowing that gentle smile to broaden (how very… charming); “and you’re more than welcome to take a seat, sir, regardless of whatever order you’d like to make” he further offered.

“Ahh, how generous… most places today are all about getting customers seen to and then shoved out of the way, aren’t they? Therefore, you truly have my thanks… err, _Cat-dad_?” he blinked, his eyes landing on the name-tag pinned to the well-maintained apron so elegantly draped over that muscular form.

Hmm…

“Oh… yes, that’s a nick-name of mine” the other explained, those dark eyes alight with fond-mirth; “I’m Aizawa Shouta and this is my café” he introduced with another, polite bow (how very… amenable): “we don’t stand on ceremonies here and everyone is welcome” he assured. “I’ve just wiped down the tables and, if you sit at that one? You’ll be able to see the overhead menu easily” he offered; “we also have a cat-enclosure if you’d like to enjoy some company before or after I’ve served you?”

‘ _My, my… and what better company could I keep than yours, I wonder? Now I can see why Tomura spends so much time here… oh yes, how very rare… how truly _delightful_ to find such courtesy in an area like this one_’ he thought.

“Ah, if not for my allergies I would _certainly_ entertain the idea” he mused in his lilting, harmless-older man tone; “I must confess that I was _very_ surprised that my nose didn’t twitch when I entered your establishment, Aizawa-kun” he grinned. “You must work very hard to keep this place so clean” he praised; “oh, and this seat is very comfortable, very comfortable indeed” he furthered, his eyes once again appraising the chalked menu as opposed to the laminated one available on the table he’d rested his hands upon. “Now, let’s see… I would like a flat-white coffee and… my-my, fruit pies? Why, I’ve not enjoyed such a treat since I was last in America… I’ll have a slice of the cheery, alamode, please” he asked.

“Of course” the man (quirkless, Kurogiri had thought; as a martial-arts instructor, most of his files were sealed since his services had been acquired by the Police Force (what a pity) and, outwardly, he looked like a normal man and there was no information to the contrary; people with _good_ quirks didn’t usually build such skills) replied. “I’ll bring them to your table, shortly” he added before turning to manipulate an ancient yet gleaming (clearly lovingly maintained) coffee machine (Italian? Would wonders never cease?); once set, he quickly walked through a fire-door to no doubt serve up the dessert and ice-cream.

Humming, his deceptively powerful form leaning into the padded chair, Shigaraki continued to lazily observe his surroundings.

This café was, perhaps, one of the most homely and welcoming places he’d visited in a long while.

Carefully painted walls were adorned with cat-photos, information-posters and (well, he wasn’t above appreciating such simple, domestic things _but_ they didn’t usually inhabit professional settings) framed pieces of _art_ and essays no doubt created by the gaggle of quietly chatting, writing children behind him.

The colour scheme (which should have been garish) was actually thoughtfully and tastefully done; the pawprints upon the window frames, the glittered linoleum and even the dotting of lush herb-plants on what he assumed to be a service-hatch next to him (fragrant, definitely well-watered) all worked to create a pleasant atmosphere.

He’d even found himself nodding along to the quiet, soft-jazz he could hear (floating atop the quiet conversations, laughs and giggles leaving the patrons) from speaker system he’d spied before raising a brow at a large, fairy-light boarded sign displaying a “Connections and Contacts” header with handwritten notes offering services of all kinds.

Furthermore, the red and yellow parasols outside (though the tables were empty, for the time being) made him oddly nostalgic for Europe (a great place to do _business_ ) and, as the scent of freshly ground, expensive coffee-beans washed over his senses he found himself _actually_ relaxing.

Well, well…

~*~

Regarding the generous slice of pie and the rich, creamy dollop of vanilla slowly melting next to it, Shigaraki sipped his coffee (rich, smooth and fragrant) with a sigh before using the bamboo (how very ethical) dessert fork provided to carve out a mouthful of the glistening, crimson fruit and short, buttery pastry to eat.

_Dear God!_

“Aizawa-kun” he said with a blink; “may I ask you which supplier you use?” he asked (because it wouldn’t be beyond a phone call to arrange for this fare to be supplied to him on demand, would it?): “I must confess that I hadn’t expected to receive such quality at the prices you’re charging” he added with a chuckle.

“He makes it himself.”

Feeling his eyebrows reach for his full, salt’n’pepper hairline, All for One regarded _Dabi_ (Kurogiri was certain that it was an alias; however, he’d been unable to match the teenager’s unique look to any missing persons or families who boasted quirks that created such obvious scarring) in wonder before observing the café owner.

“ _You_ made this… from scratch?” he asked bewilderedly; “may I ask where you trained?”

“Setsuna High School in Tokyo” the bun-wearer replied, his jaunty, black chef’s cap complete with white paw-print shifting a little as he inclined that very clever head through a mild shrug; “I’ve made quite a few pies today for a special order if you’d like to take one home with you?”

“Oh yes, I’d like that very much” he admitted; he was a little surprised, too, at how genuinely he meant it, another mouthful eaten before he looked to the teenager now lounging in the booth closets to the café’s main entrance, those beautiful, turquoise eyes casting around outside before checking his phone.

Ahh…

So Tomura was on his way, then?

 _Excellent_.

“Of course, sir… I have apple, cheery and banoffee pie available… which would you prefer?”

“Why, my dear Aizawa-kun, I believe I’ll have one of each please… with my deepest thanks” he smiled generously before continuing to enjoy the slice before him; ahh, it was gone too soon, wasn’t it?

Then, watching the talented, precise and obviously doting (somehow, he didn’t see that as a weakness in this man) man made yet another exit, the country’s _so called_ greatest threat and most wanted villain decided to scratch the itch of his curiosity.

Knowledge was power, after all…

“Excuse, young man?” he asked when his pie was nought but crumbs, Dabi’s eyes looking towards him disinterestedly (heh, teenagers); “I couldn’t help but notice that you’re also wearing an apron and cap” he furthered: “you work here as well, I take it?”

“Yeah… ugh, I mean yes, that’s right” he replied; “can I… get you anything while my boss is busy?”

“Oh, oh no, thank you” he smiled congenially; “I was only… curious, let’s say, about the history of this place” he allowed: “you’ve not been open long, have you?” he continued. “And it’s a family business, I take it?”

“Heh… we’ve been open for just over two months, going on for three” the dark-haired boy (suddenly self-conscious; ahh yes, he could see why his ward had taken to him: there was a certain sweetness to be exploited here, wasn’t there?) returned with an almost astonished look. “And… and yeah… _yea_ , you could say it’s a family business” he furthered when the owner returned with three white, black paw-print smattered boxes in hand, a roguish smile painting those handsome features and highlighting his charms considerably.

Hmm…

“There’s no _could say_ about it as far as I’m concerned” the raven-haired beauty stated after depositing the (admittedly cute and definitely hand-designed) packages before him, those dark eyes shifting from the lightly blushing teen back to him, an artful brow rising in question; “if it’s not too intrusive of me to ask, mister…”

“Shigaraki” he supplied with another smile, that luscious, silky ice-cream now similarly gone.

What a pity.

“… Shigaraki-san, have you recently returned to the area?”

“Ha~! Why yes, yes I have” he grinned; “I have family business of my own to tend to in town since, unfortunately, my work takes me all over the world from time to time which means I can’t be here with my nephew as often as I’d like” he allowed, his expression playing up a sadness he didn’t feel. “I’m what some circles might call a quirk-specialist, you see and… umm?”

Blinking when a gasp boomed out behind him, his cerulean eyes looking from the people he’d been talking to (who shared a knowing, teasing glance), All for One turned around to see a freckle-faced, emerald haired young man sporting a “Hooray, I’m 7 Today!” badge, his big, doe-eyes starry and filled with wonder.

How decidedly… _cute_!

How _easily_ corruptible!

“Shigaraki-san” the eatery owner (and exceptional baker besides) said warmly; “this is Midoriya Izuku” he chuckled: “he has ambitions to become all kinds of things; however, you’ll probably not find a young person more proficient in analysing quirks than him…”

~*~

The child (such a pleasant, affable and quirkless little thing) had happily sat and chatted with him (or at him, really) about his _profession_ for a solid ten minutes, his energetic form bringing him his hand-written notes, observations and books _brimming_ with ideas.

Hmm…

Now that he thought about it, nurturing someone with this kind of talent was probably a _very_ good idea, wasn’t it?

Heh…

It’d be like having his own, personal quirk-sale’s assistant, wouldn’t it?

Useful _indeed_ ~!

“My goodness, Midoriya-kun” he laughed when the boy _finally_ took a breath, one his friends (a lovely, little brunette girl who’d very quietly and politely reminded the enthusiastic, intelligent and forward-thinking boy that the cats needed grooming; how… domestic) now standing next to him with a shy smile. “What a marvellous young man you are” he praised; “it isn’t every day that I meet someone of your tender years so interested in analysis” he added whilst giving that unruly mop of emerald hair a gentle, familial pat: “do say hello to the cats for me, won’t you?” 

“Y-yes sir, thank you sir~!” he veritably chirped before scooping up his books and skipping off.

Midoriya, eh?

How very, _very_ interesting…

“Thank you for speaking with him, Shigaraki-san” Aizawa Shouta offered quietly, his form diligently cleaning the table behind him whilst Dabi continued to keep watch, an annoyed sigh leaving him as he got up and walked, quite briskly, towards a video-game set-up; “he can get a little… carried away, at times” he chuckled.

Watching as he walked past him (hmm… more interesting, still) the ageless man in disguise let out a well-meaning laugh that wasn’t as faked as he’d thought it would be; “it was my pleasure” he assured. “Preparing young people for a better future is something very much at the heart of what I’m trying to achieve” he added before finishing his coffee with a pleased, if slightly disappointed, sigh.

Perhaps it wouldn’t hurt to have another?

He…

* **Ding-ding***

Looking up, the handsome (and multi-talented, besides) young man having already returned to the service-bar, All for One _very nearly_ expelled a deep, raucous laugh… 

“Ahh~! Shouta-kun, good afternoon~!”

For, who should have walked through the café’s door but Yagi Toshinori, his smile sincere, his shoulders relaxed, his tone _overly_ informal…

Overly _friendly_ …

**Hmm…**

“Good afternoon, yourself… who in the world are you feeding all of my muffins to, anyway? You certainly order enough for a party every time, don’t you?”

‘ _Oh, Tomura_ ’ he thought.

“Hahahahaaa~! Shouta-kun, do you _really_ think that I’d share them _or_ any of your amazing pies with anyone else _other_ than yourself and _maybe_ Sir Nighteye, neh~?”

‘ _So **this** is why you’ve set up camp here… you good boy, you **excellent** , diligent boy!_'

“Tch… where do you put it all?”

Smothering his grin, the flash of power which’d threatened to crackle across his skin quickly reined in, Shigaraki licked his suddenly dry lips and tried to hide the predatory glint sparking in his borrowed eyes.

“All Might-sama, is that you?” he called pleasantly, his mind’s eye _revelling_ in the sudden stiffening of those colossal shoulders as neon-blue eyes snapped to his own, that _fucking_ smile _finally_ dying; “my goodness, what a _small_ world this is” he chuckled as he took in that stricken expression, those pulsing veins.

“Come join me, won’t you?” he offered in a lilting purr; “it’s been a while since we… talked, wouldn’t you say?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Umm...
> 
> I would JUST like to reiterate that we're all gonna be fine, okay?
> 
> Yes, there WILL be angst and YES, All for One is BUTT, **however**
> 
> I've got this, trust me, you're in safe hands~!
> 
> We're gonna hit this fucker where it hurts, you'll see~!


	47. Talks… Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Warnings include: ANGST, WORRY, FEAR, ANXIETY, DISTRESS, ALL FOR ONE BEING A BASTARD... swearing, shock, threats to life/references to canon typical destruction and fffffffffeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeelllllllllllsssssss~!!**
> 
> Okay guys...
> 
> IT'S A DOUBLE UPDATE!
> 
> And it's a double update BECAUSE I didn't want to leave any of you hanging/thinking that I was lying when I said "I'VE GOT THIS" because I HAVE~!
> 
> XD
> 
> This chapter hits hard SO please read the updates together; I haven't let you down, I promise~!

Watching with all of the sly, cruel enjoyment of a wolf having cornered the wounded stag he’d stalked, Shigaraki pulled the chair next to him away with a wave of his hand, his smile still warm, _fond_ even, as the bane of his existence, the _Symbol of Peace_ , the man whom held the final piece to his victory within his overly muscular form _baulked_ at him.

Oh…

That fear…

That _hesitancy_ …

It was…

“Hmm, surely to have time to chat with an… _old_ friend, do you not?”

_Delicious…_

Then, the spell of his fear, concern and anxiety momentarily broken, the blonde managed to force out a “Shigaraki, how have you been?” before staunchly, stoically and _stiffly_ making his approach whilst Aizawa (“ _Shouta-kun_ ”, was it?), so _very_ helpfully told the blonde: “I’ll bring your order over for you, okay?”

Ahh…

Helpful, indeed~!

“Come-come, Yagi-kun, why ever are you so… serious?” he smirked, his eyes glittering with glee as the man took the chair and pulled it further away before sitting down, his nostrils flaring.

“ _What-in-the-world-are-you-doing-here?_ ” the _Number 1 Pro_ (tch, what a joke) breathed out, his body hunched, his entire being tensed up like a coiled spring.

“Oh?” he purred; “can’t a man simply tour about his home-town and enjoy a slice of pie crafted by a _true_ and humble artisan, every so often?” he mused thoughtfully: “he’s very… _talented_ , isn’t he? Your _Shouta-kun_?” he chuckled, his eyes flashing mischievously as the other _barely_ supressed a growl.

Oh…

 _This_ was almost _too much_ fun!

“You…”

“He’s quite… _different_ to your usual type, isn’t he? Hmm… yes, _very_ different to that simpering American man… what was his name, again? Shield David, was it?”

“ _Don’t_ you _fucking dare_ , you—”

“My goodness, such… _language_ ” he tittered before leaning back in his chair and raising his hands in a placating gesture; “I meant no offensive and, ahh… Aizawa-kun” he greeted as the affable young man made his approach with three, large boxes stacked atop each other with four more, smaller ones, on top: “whatever do you have there, neh?”

“His usual muffin order and some pies, besides” the handsome eatery owner grinned, that smile fond, _telling_ ; “would either of you like a drink?”

“That won’t—”

“That sounds _perfect_ ” he cut in, his expression deceptively warm; “please, it’s my treat” he added cordially with a _wink_ at the muscle-bound simpleton: “we’ll have two of your finest lemonades please, Aizawa-kun” he ordered. “Oh, and by any chance… would you happen to have any of these tasty muffins available to purchase? They smell divine” he praised, his eyes locking with _that woman’s_ infuriating protégé as he _desperately_ struggled to remain calm.

Oh…

How he would _relish_ this day for _years_ to come!

“Of course, I’ll be right back with your drinks and a muffin selection for you to choose from” the raven-haired male replied with another, polite incline of his head as he moved back to his eatery’s service-bar and beyond.

“My-my, such a _charming_ young man, isn’t he?” he cooed; “one could become quite… _taken_ with him, don’t you think?”

“ _Leave-him-alone_ ” the blonde grit out; “I will _not_ allow you to…”

“Hmm? Ah… so you would like to fight me, right now, in _this_ place?” he murmured thoughtfully, his hands gesturing around calmly; “is that not a little reckless even for you, Toshinori-kun?” he mused. “I mean… yes, you could punch me through that window and _maybe_ the structural integrity of the building would hold _but_ ” he purred, an overly dramatic sigh _filled_ with mock concern drawing out the moment. 

“ _Maybe_ it wouldn’t” he breathed, a flicker of power crackling over him, its presence disturbing the herbs to his left whilst their blue eyes locked meaningfully.

“And so, it seems, we are at an impasse, are we not?” he crooned, his body the epitome of serenity whilst he gestured, again, around the area.

“ _I_ could demand that you give me One for All, you could retaliate and _perhaps_ a few of these good people would survive the _mess_ we’d make” he argued, his shoulders shrugging. “But… would _he_ forgive you if he somehow escaped the fallout? Would the parents of those children _thank you_ for having no little, innocent bodies to bury when our spat inevitably reduces this area to rubble and ash, hmm?”

“ _Bastard_ ” the taller, broader man growled out; “you would do such a thing, wouldn’t you? _How_ can you not care? _Why_ are you so hellbent on _ruining_ any goodness that you find?”

“ _Goodness?_ ” he hummed thoughtfully; “ahh… such a simple, _childish_ notion” he mused mildly: “nothing is inherently _good_ , Yagi… _everything_ has a price and no _good deed_ ever goes unpunished… or didn’t watching _her_ die teach you that, hmm?”

Oh…

The blonde’s form was now bunched up, the neon power in his eyes sparking, ready to _explode_ , _oh!_

Had he done it?

Was that the last-straw of _All Might’s_ patience snapped, he…

“Here are your drinks and these are the four kinds of muffins that’re left, Shigaraki-san.”

Smiling again, his body so cool, calm and confident, All for One gratefully took the plate and watched (how… _fascinating_ ) as the café owner placed the drinks down from the tray, stopped, regarded the _Number 1 Pro_ and placed a gentle, considerate hand upon the broad, quivering meat of his shoulder; “are you… alright?”

Then, as though God himself had flipped a switch, Yagi Toshinori settled, the tension coursing through him evaporating whilst he turned to blind the raven-haired man with a true, genuine smile… a smile that the plethora of cameras that shot at him every day very rarely captured.

Hmm…

“I’m fine, thank you, Shouta-kun” he said without a hint of strain; “Shigaraki and I were merely discussing something that reminded me of past events which I believe the _both of us_ should discuss at another time… _privately_ ” he stated, a glare which the dark-eyed man couldn’t see snapping to him meaningfully. 

Ho-ho~!

‘ _So _that’s_ how you want to play it, hmm?_’ he thought; ‘ _you’ve not allowed him so close to you yet? He doesn’t _know_ the danger he’s in… you don’t _want_ him so involved? Heh, then he _can’t_ be a Pro with a day job… ah, Yagi… falling for a civilian, are you? Is this history repeating itself? Didn’t _Shimura_ warn you about such things?_’ he thought, his cool demeanour still present whilst he sipped his drink.

So… _refreshing_!

“Maa~ and you’ve made extras in all four of these flavours? Shouta-kun, you’re always so generous… ano… would you mind boxing up any more of the muffins that are left for me, please? Heh, after my _old friend_ has made his choice, _of course_?”

“Sure thing” the other blinked, his smile soft and indulgent, those fingers giving the other’s shoulder another squeeze before he pulled away; “I’ll go make a start… shout me if you need or want anything else, alright?”

Well-well- _well_ …

What an… intimate gesture…

How very… _sweet_!

“ _Eat_ , you son of a bitch.”

Chuckling, his hand returning the cool glass of lemonade back to his mouth leisurely, All for One took a sip (delicious) before selecting a golden, blueberry-oozing cake to sample, his smile broadening further; “you sly dog” he admitted: “you’re trying to keep all of the treats for yourself, hmm?” he snickered. “Ahh… how very like you to horde the things that _I_ want for myself” he sighed; “but still… I am not _opposed_ to merely chewing the fat with you, at the moment” he nodded pleasantly. “It’d be a great… _pity_ to demolish this lovely little place and harm that lovely young man, wouldn’t it?”

“ _ **Eat**_ ” the taller man ground out sharply; “then you and I will leave here and…”

“Oh no… no, no, no Yagi… that simply will not do” he replied after another bite; “umm, these _are_ good” he chuckled: “ _no_ … you will leave with your order, I will stay and finish mine and oh… let’s call this place an area of _neutral territory_ , neh?” he offered, the first muffin (sadly) gone.

“Tch… you truly believe that I’d trust _you_ to keep your word?” the bronzed Pro hissed whilst the children continued to laugh and chat, Aizawa greeted a few MU students at the service-bar and a new theme of jazz (hmm… catchy) rippled out of the speaker system.

“Trust me, don’t trust me, that’s your choice” he hummed (he’d picked up a raspberry and white-chocolate muffin next; _divine!_ ); “ _but_ , you’ll either play along with me now, keep my identity a secret, keep my _presence_ here a secret and run along _or_ I’ll finish off this plate and then, well? _Finish-off_ everyone within a mile-radius” he shrugged. 

Ahh…

 _There_ was that look of self-righteous indignation and _glorious_ fear he’d craved.

‘ _Let’s twist the knife a bit more, shall we?_ ’

“You know, perfectly well, that such a thing is something I’m capable of and, as strong as you are, _All Might_ , I only have to lift a finger and… it’s done, these people are _gone_ ” he said before another, healthy bite. “Ahh… but wouldn’t it be a shame to pile _more_ innocent lives atop your already bleeding conscience, hmm?”

“Then _you_ leave, first” he sneered, his muscles flexing, his jaw clenched; “you…”

“Ah-ah-ah… you’re in _no_ position to make demands” he surmised, the confection he’d held now gone as he reached for a banana-toffee treat (what an interesting and _wonderful_ mix of flavours); “those are my terms” he stated clearly. “The ball is now in your court as your _dear_ Americans like to say” he smirked, the final muffin (a rich combination of three kinds of chocolate with caramel; how indulgent!) now crumbling to his wickedly pleased maw.

‘ _Oh poor, poor little Yagi Toshinori_ ’ he mentally mocked as he watched a range of emotions cross those darkened features; ‘ _here is your chance to duel me after you and your _subordinates_ have failed, time and time again, to track me down and yet, your big-heart has your hands tied, doesn’t it?_’ he crooned.

‘ _Whatever will you do now, I wonder?_ ’

~*~

Seeing the MU students safely away (with two iced-coffees and the last sandwiches from the lunch-rush bagged up in their hands as they walked out into the muggy, oppressive atmosphere; it looked as though they were _finally_ getting some rain, didn’t it?), Shouta hummed and looked around his eatery.

The tots were all crowded around Dabi as he played through a new game (Tomura and Spinner would no doubt be arriving soon; they were walking here together since the decay work user had been completing his online courses at his apartment: he’d thought his uncle may have been dropping by, too) and the CCTV showed Tomoko, with Mimi-chan’s group, all having fun.

Similarly, Fuchida Sora (now seven months in to her pregnancy) was sat amongst the cats who were _very_ intrigued by her baby-bump whilst she chatted with her child’s adopted-grandmothers and enjoyed herself.

Everything looked great, everything seemed fine and yet, as he slanted his eyes (every so often) to All Might and Shigaraki-san, he couldn’t help but feel…

“I’ll… be going then.”

 _Pensive_.

Yes, there was something about the way the older man was talking to the Number Pro that just didn’t sit right with him; however, he supposed that there wasn’t a great deal he could do and it really wasn’t any of his business, but…

 _But_ watching the blue-eyed man he’d come to know and care about (as a person, not the flashy icon plastered across every other billboard, bus and internet-banner) get up stiffly, his movements forced, his posture straining as though he was stressed and angry, well…

He didn’t like it…

He _wanted_ to help him…

Hmm…

“Shigaraki-san?” he called; “have you decided which muffins you’d like to add to your order?” he furthered whilst walking to the end of the service-bar, his critical gaze observing the seemingly mild-mannered, courteous and pleasant older man (who’d riled his friend so much) over the cutlery-station.

Now that he thought about it, there was a strange _closeness_ between them, wasn’t there?

Could he be the Pro’s father? Did he not _like_ the career the man had chosen? 

Or was he a hero-critic, perhaps? Maybe his doctor?

Oh God…

There wasn’t something wrong with the blonde’s health or quirk, was there?

No…

No, the Symbol of Peace seemed more defensive than anything else; he was… _wary_ and possibly… _worried_?

 _Not good_ …

“Ahh, Aizawa-kun, may I please have four of each, if you have them? That’ll not eat in to our _dear_ Number 1’s request too much, will it? Oh~! But we’re both so greedy, aren’t we?” he laughed and it _seemed_ friendly enough.

 _Honest_ enough, didn’t it?

However, those words also sounded like they were loaded with a deeper, hidden meaning…

A meaning that was shared between the two men he was observing; shit, his hackles were rising higher by the second…

“That shouldn’t be a problem” he told him with a nod; “All Might? Just give me two minutes and I’ll box up the rest for you, okay?”

“Thank you, Shouta-kun… that’d be great” the other replied, that smile taught across his features.

Shit.

Something was definitely up, wasn’t it?

Hmm…

Offering a bow, he skittered back into his kitchen, grabbed his tongs and started to portion up the small, golden cakes with his left hand whilst manipulating his cell-phone with his right (heh, being ambidextrous had its perks), his fingers firing off two texts.

The first was to Dabi: “something weirds happening, can you take the kids to the cat enclosure, please? Tell Tomoko to un-latch the emergency door, too…”

The second was to Sir Nighteye: “there’s a man called Shigaraki at the café and AM seems… off, is everything okay? You can hack into my CCTV if you need to…”

Hopefully he was blowing his instincts out of proportion; however, there was _no_ denying the worry gnawing at his senses.

But, with the cakes loaded, he decided to play the situation by ear and returned to service bar to see the blonde awaiting him.

His lodger and the kids, none of whom had made a fuss, were already on the move, those turquoise eyes briefly meeting his before the teenager ushered them all out of sight.

God, he was such a good kid.

“Here you go” he smiled; “have a good afternoon” he bowed.

Returning the bow (it was telling, _very_ telling, that he found himself unable to speak; he looked how he had on that night Mr Compress had surprised him: _double shit_ ), the taller, broader man added the boxes to what he already had, opened the café door and left without a backwards glance.

Hmm…

“Ahh, those muffins were delightful, Aizawa-kun… and, if you’ll forgive me for saying so” the older man stated as he, too, stood, his glass empty (All Might’s hadn’t been touched), his hand picking up the packaged pies; “I find it hard to believe that you’re not classically trained” he praised.

“Baking is logical” he replied in kind (and with a smile he didn’t feel); “with correct weights, measurements and temperatures, the desired result is virtually always at hand which is satisfying, rewarding and far less complicated than a fancy, expensive catering-school would let you believe” he furthered. “I’ve also been able to make some great connections with excellent stockist and suppliers” he added, his expression relaxing and becoming fond as he thought of the deals he’d made. “Quality ingredients tend to create quality products, after all” he reasoned before, his eyes tracking the man as he casually walked towards him, he asked; “may I get you anything else, Shigaraki-san?”

“Goodness my dear, I’d be tempted to buy up everything in this place and your services besides~!” he chortled, a Black AMEX card flashing over his till’s pay-point; _holy shit_. “Ahh~! But sadly I am needed elsewhere at the moment… however, could I please ask you to help me carry your delicious wares to my car?” he hedged; “my driver is a good-man but getting on in years, you see.”

Blinking and nodding (because what was the harm, really? There were no other customers on the approach and he could see, through the window and past his parasols, an expensive car rolling slowly down the street), Shouta picked up the two muffin-boxes and walked through the bar’s security gate.

Then, his eyes checking over his eatery once more, he pulled open the door and stepped back for the older man to pass him.

“Heh, and they say that chivalry is dead” the greying haired quirk-specialist hummed, a certain twinkle in his eye as he moved into the muggy, humid summer heat.

Chuckling despite himself, he was soon moving alongside him whilst casually looking around, a real smile stretching his lips when Spinner and Tomura rounded the café, the shorter boy stopping suddenly whilst the lizard quirked boy waved at them enthusiastically.

“Hey, cat-dad~!” he called; “aww~! Don’t tell me that alla the muffins are gone?” he asked, his dark gaze roving around the boxes he carried enviously.

“There are still plenty of your favourite cookies, don’t worry” he snickered; “you can make your way inside and grab some, if you like? Tomura will show you where they are in the kitchen, okay?” he offered, his gaze moving to the grey, hoody-covered teen who seemed to have snapped out of his stupor to bow at them both.

“Ahh~! You’re the best~! Thank you~! Oh… ugh, and good afternoon, sir” the purple-haired youth said with a polite incline of his head that was mirrored by Shigaraki and the shorter boy (again?) as they skirted around them and approached the café’s door.

“Good afternoon, dear boys, do enjoy yourselves, won’t you?” the elder returned whilst he watched them go before refocusing on the car; “hmm, Aizawa-kun, so you make biscuits as well? How marvellous~!” he praised as they reached the car, the back-door springing open for him.

Then, with a sigh, he shuffled onto the plush, leather seat (the climate-control blasting out cool, clean air to waft at them both), deposited his boxes and then gratefully took the others which were held out for him.

“Thank you so much for your time and wonderful company, Aizawa-kun” he stated, a smile with a few too many teeth flashing at him; “I do look forward to seeing you again, soon~!”

~*~

Seeing Sensei walking next to Shouta had _very nearly_ caused him to vomit; shit, if he _had_ just eaten, then he was certain that he would have done.

Shit…

_Shit!_

He’d been _so_ fucking careful, he…

* **Bzz-bzz-bzz-bzz** *

Swallowing thickly as he entered under the tinkling bell of the Noraneko’s main door, he found himself shuddering, his body slipping into the first booth whilst Spinner talked at him (he couldn’t hear him) and Dabi walked up to where they were stationed, their newest friend no doubt wanting cookies.

His partner, no doubt, wanting to know if he was okay…

He probably looked like his world had ended…

It probably _had_ …

“J-just give me a minute, okay?” he rasped out, his eyes fixed on his phone once he’d pulled it from his hoody’s pocket, the knot in his stomach eating up his intestines as he vaguely clocked the pair hesitate before moving away.

SS:“hello, my boy… how have you been?”

Fuck…

 _Fuck_ , he…

Shit, where was Shouta?!

Snapping his head up, he let out a shaky breath when he saw the man (no worse for wear, not trembling in shock after having his quirk snatched away; thank God) walking back to the café, his face a little nonplussed but not distressed in the slightest.

ST:“Sensei… I thought that you were meeting me at home?”

SS: “Ahh! But is this café _not_ your home, Tomura? You’ve been spending a great deal of time there, haven’t you? You excellent, marvellous boy! Why didn’t you tell me that you’d found such a valuable chink in our foe’s armour?”

Oh… _fuck_ …

ST:“I… thought it would be best to discuss that in person; you’re always saying that technology can be hacked, right?” he tried to cover, his eyes flicking up to meet Shouta’s as he entered and greeted him with a hair ruffle (God… he… he was going to miss those…) before moving back to the service-area.

Shit; he couldn’t allow his benefactor to know that he was here for other, _sentimental_ reasons…

SS: “I see…”

_‘Come on please just accept what I’ve said…’_

SS:“in any event, we will be moving up north in three days’ time…

Wait…

W-what?

T-three days…

But… but he didn’t _want_ to leave, he…

SS:“you’ll be able to think of a viable excuse for your absence, won’t you? Unless… you’d like to bring that young man of yours with us? I must confess that I wouldn’t be opposed to spiriting Aizawa away, myself…”

Oh God…

Oh no…

 _No!_

ST:“you don’t want that kind of hassle” he rapidly typed, his form trembling; to take Shouta away from this community, to force him and Dabi into bondage, to leave Hitoshi (who’d suffered enough, God damn it!) all alone, no… 

**No!** He wouldn’t… he _couldn’t_ allow it!

ST:“I’ll make a viable excuse, don’t worry” he told him.

SS:“very well, then…”

T-thank God…

SS:“you seem quite… attached to these people, though Tomura… you _do_ surprise me…” 

_**Shit!** _

SS:“ahh… but you won’t have told them, will you? You’ve not let on about your higher-purpose… or what happened to your family, have you?”

Swallowing thickly, he could _feel_ his quirk eating through the gloves the café owner had given him, his eyes tearing.

SS:“why not tell them, hmm? Instead of leaving… they could chase you out, couldn’t they? Then you’ll see, first hand, what I’ve been telling you all along about this world and the so called _nice_ people who claim to inhabit it…” his senior typed. 

SS:“yes… I believe that would be for the best, don’t you?”


	48. Love is Thicker than Blood…

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Warnings include: DISTRESS, ANGST, TOMURA'S BACK-STORY (spoilers), TEARS, UPSETTING SCENES, REFERENCES TO DEATH/PHYSICAL ABUSE, swearing, BAMF Bakugo Mitsuki, BAMF Cat-dad (you DO NOT mess with his kids, yo), redemption and FFFFFFFFFFEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEELLLLLLLLLLLLLLLSSSSSSSSS~!!**
> 
> Like so many feels BUT a hopeful, BAMF ending~!

God… as Mondays went, this one was…

“Hey… is everything alright?”

 _Troubling_.

First of all, Sir Nighteye had not replied to his text (he’d read the message, though) which was incredibly unusual for the officious hero and worrying, besides. 

He’d checked his CCTV cameras and, by the odd flicker across the recordings he’d reviewed, he was certain that they’d been accessed and copied, as well.

Hmm…

Then, All Might hadn’t replied to the private messages he’d sent him, either; he’d been concerned (clearly more than he should have been and _now_ he felt like a nuisance) and had sent just a few lines (all read) enquiring after him. He’d even tried to joke about the lemonade not being drank but now, since humour wasn’t his forte, he was worried that he might have offended the Pro, or something.

His customers were fine, at least.

They’d all eaten, chugged down their beverages, talked and done their usual things _but_ his teens had been off, too.

Spinner and Dabi (his lodger looking… distressed) had come back down stairs after following Tomura (who’d rushed by him without a word not long after he’d re-entered his eatery; he’d been serving two customers or he would have ran straight up, after him) to the apartment a full five minutes later.

The decay quirk user had, allegedly “ _slammed his fucking bedroom door in our faces… he told me to piss off…_ ” and that, instantly, had made him beyond concerned.

Shit.

What was today?

It was 17:30, the salary-crowd would be upon them soon and, to top everything off?

There was a car (an unmarked police one, he was willing bet) parked just up the road, a pair of _very_ inconspicuous men sat inside it and wearing _fucking_ aviator-sunglasses, of all things.

Hmm…

He’d scowled to himself for all of three seconds as he reflected on the situations all running in together before ranking what he needed to do, in order, and going about what he needed to do.

Mimi-chan, her friends and Sora-san were making their way out of the cat-enclosure and so, a quick text to Tomoko sent, the tots were similarly trotting back to the study space where he’d asked Spinner to _entertain them_ with some of his cheat-codes.

Once done (the cats were still free to roam about in their designated space), his latest employee had skipped up to him, told him “ _you can count on me, cat-dad… give Tomu-chan a hug from me if he needs one, okay?_ ” and diligently manned the till.

Then, his head nodding to Dabi, a brotherly hand giving that tension-stiffened shoulder a squeeze, they both went upstairs.

He’d decided to keep Hitoshi out of _whatever_ was going on for the time being; he was still fussing over the birthday boy and the thought of seeing _Spinner-nii_ in action was something he didn’t want to take him from unless it was absolutely necessary.

Therefore, together?

They’d walked into their apartment, passed under the archway that conjoined the two, formerly separate living spaces and he (his tallest teen hanging back slightly, his form clearly upset) had knocked on the door and said “ _hey… is everything alright?_ ”

He’d now been stood here for three minutes.

Tomura had yet to answer.

Hmm…

“Can I come in?” he hedged; “I’m going to open the door, okay?”

“ **Don’t!** ”

Shit…

Well, that wasn’t good.

“Tomura, I…”

“I… coming out” the other said; “s-stand away from the door I… my gloves are… _shit_ …”

Feeling his brows raise, Shouta took a step or two back before looking to Dabi, his words quiet; “can you get the big, first aid kit from the kitchenette? It’s under the sink… there are some spare gloves in there.”

Nodding, the other was moving swiftly whilst he observed the door; as the silver handle lowered, he sucked in and released a breath, his smile warm.

“Hey” he said; “are you…”

“I’m leaving” the teen stated bluntly, his tear-reddened eyes harsh; there was a satchel in his hand, the same satchel he’d carried some personal effects here for his room a few weeks ago.

“Leaving?” he blinked; “I… you’re not a prisoner here, of course but… isn’t this all a little sudden?” he asked, his worry ramping up a notch: “I mean… can’t we just stop a second and talk about this, I…”

“ _Why_ have you packed a bag?”

Oh… _shit_.

The Dabi that he’d first met back in May, his tone biting, his words blunt, had taken centre-stage hadn’t he?

Damn.

Slowly backing a little further away, his gaze moving from the scowling flame quirk user to the gritted teeth of the decay quirk user, Shouta watched the shorter teen’s resolve flicker for a second before those cracked lips (fuck; his skin was reacting to his agitated state, wasn’t it?) mirrored the scarred man’s scowl.

“Because I’m fucking leaving, you moron… it’s over, I’m going, that’s _it_ ” he sneered; “so get the fuck out of my way before I _make_ you…”

“The _fuck_ did you just say? You…”

“ _Whoa, whoa, whoa_! Time-out!” he called, his body now moving to stand between them, his own power ready to activate if he needed it; “take a breath, _both_ of you” he said, his tone brokering no argument: “we can talk this out…”

“That’s where you’re wrong… _Aizawa_ ” the crimson eyed boy snarled, his gloveless hands trembling as he raised one at him; “there’s no _reasoning_ with a _monster_ like me” he spat: “now get the fuck out of my way, _don’t_ follow me and…”

“Tomura” he said, his voice unwavering; “you’re not a monster” he stated firmly: “you’re our friend… no, you’re more than that… you’re our _family_ kid, we love you, we…”

“ _ **No!**_ ” the grey haired teenager howled; “you can’t… you… you don’t know me! You don’t know who I am or what I’ve done… I…”

“D’you think we care?” Dabi cut in, his hands balling into fists, his shoulders shaking and alight with flames; “what about me, huh? _Look_ at me? Aren’t _I_ scary, huh?!”

Shit…

He needed to calm them down and, sadly, he didn’t have any food to shove at them and so, with a sigh, he ignited his quirk and watched as both of them baulked before staring at him, the fierceness of their expressions, thankfully, subsiding.

“ _Neither_ of you are monsters” he said, his eyes narrowing when the slighter of the two made to open his mouth; “you’re my precious people and I _will not_ tolerate you talking about yourselves that way” he informed him bluntly: “am I in the habit of saying things that I don’t mean?”

Watching as the other shuddered and shook his head, he allowed himself to blink, the tension which’d been building slowly leeching away in the quiet of their living space.

“Now… as I’ve said” he breathed; “you’re free to leave, Tomura… but I’d much rather you stay and talk to us” he urged: “ _please_?”

At the other’s flinch and nod, the satchel’s handles disintegrated, the bag falling to the floor with a muted _thunk_.

“I… my uncle is taking me somewhere… we’re leaving in his private jet in… in three days’ time” the youngest of the three finally said; “I… won’t be coming back… not for a very long time” he furthered, his words causing Dabi to stiffen and him to blink. 

“I see” he heard himself say; “but… have you told him that you have a place here? I can support you, you know, he wouldn’t need to send any yen if you wanted to stay here…”

“I… I can’t” the shorter boy whimpered, his anger dissolving into tears, his fragile shoulders shaking as he sniffed; “you… you d-don’t understand and I… I can’t tell you or… or you’d _hate-e_ me and… and I… I’d r-rather _die_ than h-have you… h-hate me…”

Moving without thinking, he _just_ about managed to stop himself when the other recoiled with a desperate sob; “ _ **don’t!**_ ”

“A-alright, I’m sorry” he apologised, his hands raising even as Dabi, liked a caged animal, started to pace, his hands clenching and unclenching; “but please know, I… _we_ could never hate you, okay?”

“I…I wish I… I could believe that…”

“Then tell us” the turquoise eyed male bit out; “ _trust_ us… God, Tomura… you… you can’t just leave us… not… not like this… please… please just” he begged (and _shit_ , how he longed to comfort them both; what the hell had happened? Everything had been going _so_ well), his tone pleading.

God fucking damn it!

If he _ever_ met the boy’s uncle he’d upper-cut him into next week.

“F-fine… you… you wanna know? You wanna hate me… okay…”

Struggling not to say something, his posture loose, his feet ready to move, his quirk on standby, Shouta expelled a sigh and listened, his face decidedly neutral.

“I… I got my quirk late, you know?” the other began, his body curling in on itself, his head bowed, those wavy-bangs shading his eyes; “I… I had _always_ wanted to… to be a hero and so, when I was eight, on a day when I met my uncle for the first time I… I _finally_ had one and I was so… _so_ happy” he chuckled through a sob. “B-but m-my father… he _hated_ heroes so me… me and my big sister we… we’d play in secret and… and as my q-quirk developed… my black hair turned grey… my skin cracked and… and soon… I was sc-cared to touch a-anything” he breathed.

“M-my father was… was drunk a-a lot and… and violent besides” he continued. “My-y mom and… and her family th-they had to move in to ou-r-r house to k-keep an eye on him and… and me I… I was always breaking things without meaning to and they… they started whispering about me and… and got scared of me and so I… I just played _hero_ by myself most days” he sniffed. “T-they pulled me o-out of school… because I was too… too dangerous and my g-grandparents were embarrassed and my mom was worri-ed and my sister’s f-friends stopped coming to the house so _she’d_ get mad at me and I… one day… one day my f-father was _really_ tanked up” he tried to laugh.

Shit…

That poor, poor kid…

“A-and he… he _caught_ me p-playing hero b-by myself and… I wasn’t hurtin… anyone… I was… just _playing_ and he… he attacked me, hurt me, _tugged my hair out_ and my mom she… tried to stop him and suddenly everyone was there, grabbing at me and pushing and yelling and screaming and then… and then…” he cried, his body collapsing to his knees.

“They were _gone_ … I’d killed them… I’d _killed_ them all and I couldn’t b-bring them back…”

Dear _God_ …

“Tomura” he breathed and, his heart breaking further, he watched as the teen recoiled, obviously expecting to be physically hurt; “Tomura… I’m so… _so_ sorry…”

At his words, the other dared to look at him, his own legs bending to kneel at his level with Dabi doing the same.

“ _W-what?_ ”

“That must have been _terrifying_ for you” he reasoned, his own eyes tearing; “Tomura… you were a child, only _eight year’s old_ and in an awful situation with a quirk that no one had helped you to manage” he explained: “w-what happened to your family is _devastating_ but… it was an _accident_ ” he told him. “A horrible, terrible accident” he furthered whilst edging closer; “I mean… my God… your father was _attacking_ you” he breathed, his head shaking. “Here… come here” he called, his arms opening, his hands encircling the other’s wrists to secure as hands before pulling him into his chest, the loud, heart-wrenching sobs leaving his second lodger vibrating through him as Dabi wrapped around them both.

Blinking back his own tears ( _no one_ should have to had to go through that; such a hideous thing _could_ … _should_ have been avoided; God! _Why_ did parents feel ashamed of their children who had unusual quirks? He could have been helped! He could have been taught how to manage his power!) Shouta gently rocked them all.

“It’s going to be alright” he murmured into the trembling boy’s hair; “we love you, you’re safe… it’s going to be okay…”

~*~

After ten minutes or so, all of them emotionally drained, Tomura had _finally_ calmed down enough to put on a new set of gloves, his head still cradled under his chin as Dabi got up to snag a box of tissues and one of the pitchers of lemonade they kept for themselves in one of the kitchenettes’ fridges.

“T-thank you, Shou” the youth murmured; “I… I can’t believe that you… that you don’t…”

“Shh-shh-shh” he soothed; “ _thank you_ for trusting us enough to talk… this must have been eating at you and hurting you for a very, very long time” he replied gently: “now then… what’re we going to do about your uncle, hmm? We can call him, together, if you…”

“No” the other sighed, his shoulders sagging as he pulled away to look at him, his face determined; “you… both of you, Toshi, Izu, the other kids, the Pros… even All Might you… I know what I have to do now” he breathed, his tremoring hands taking the glass his partner held out to him with a shaky nod.

“What do you mean?” he blinked because… what did any of them have to do with the teen’s uncle?

An _uncle_ whom he’d… met?

Hmm…

“My uncle is a… _very_ powerful man” he said quietly; “he… he wants me to become his successor… he’s been training me to use my quirk to change the world… and the first thing he wants me to do, when he believes I’m ready… is to kill All Might” he stated, his eyes screwing shut as he swallowed thickly. “He… he was here, today… he… he could have killed all of you” he whispered; “a-and now… if I don’t help you… if I don’t help All Might to stop him then we’re all… _all_ completely and totally fucked” he bit out.

“I… I’m sorry… I didn’t think that he’d come back, so soon… I didn’t realise that he was having me followed…”

“That son of _bitch_ ” Dabi seethed; “I’ll kill him myself, I…”

“Easy” he called, his hand reaching out for the other as he made to get up, their eyes locking; “I know how you feel… _believe_ me” he grit out, his own features angry: “but we’ve gotta think smart… your partner’s right” he acknowledged. “We need resources to throw at this problem, resources, information and, most importantly? A united front” he nodded, the flame quirk user settling; “the best thing you can do now is hold onto each other” he instructed whilst pulling the scarred man closer, his tense shoulders softening a little when the teens wrapped around each other tightly.

He would _not_ allow _anyone_ to hurt them.

Not while there was breath in his lungs.

However, getting the word out to All Might and getting him and Sir Nighteye over here wasn’t going to be easy, especially if the café was being watched by Shigaraki-san (who he really, _really_ wished he could pummel right now; tch, thoughts for later).

The last thing that they needed was for that man to believe Tomura had betrayed him; they had _three_ days to get a plan together, get Hitoshi and his teens somewhere safe and find a way to nail that fucking bastard and lock him up.

The last part, he thought, could be relatively simple with his quirk involved and his youngest, care-centre brother (with his Pro Hero mentor involved, too) being able to knock his power down and knock him the fuck out when All Might’s sheer strength gave them an opening but, shit…

He was getting ahead of himself, wasn’t he?

“Okay” he breathed; “I’m going to go wash my face” he murmured: “then I’m going to go back downstairs to the café and you two can either stay here or come down with me” he said gently. “It is _very_ important that we look like we’re living through just another day, alright?” he asked before he looked to the decay quirk user; “does Shigaraki have a way to monitor phone calls that you know of?”

“Probably” he admitted; “he’ll definitely have taps on any communication running in and out of the café” he furthered softly.

“That’s what I thought” he nodded; “and that’s why Bakugo Mitsuki and I are going to have a pretty long chat when she arrives to pick up Katsuki in ten minutes... well, after you tell me _everything_ you can think of that can help us to bring him down” he added, his expression determined. “Then, in three days’ time? That son of a bitch won’t know what hit him and he’ll _never_ be able to hurt you, or any of us, again, alright?”

~*~

Mirai was, admittedly, incredibly distressed by this turn of events… a turn of events that _he_ hadn’t seen coming in the slightest…

“You see, Yagi! _This_ is why you keep your distance, _this_ is what Nana warned you about, you big lummox~!”

And now, here he was, stood in his private, secure office with Toshinori pacing up and down, Gran Torino throwing a fit, several Police Force Agents scowling into laptops and his side kicks already on their way to _drink coffee_ at the Noraneko…

“Tch, and since he has acquired this warp-gate using prick it’d be _pointless_ to try and track him down! Shit! His car just _disappeared_ as you drove after it and, hell! Fucking hell, what’s to stop whoever the fuck that person is from manifesting inside that cat-place and wreaking havoc, nah?!”

He felt awful for not returning Shouta’s messages (it was better to maintain _radio silence_ until they could agree on a threat level or course of action) and he knew that guilt, fear and worry were eating up his best friend.

His best friend who would not allow him to provide any comfort…

“Feh~! I’m getting too old for this shit~!”

Sighing as the oldest Pro _finally_ ran out of steam, he adjusted his glasses and opened his mouth to ask a question when…

“ _… ma’am please~! No~! Wait~! You can’t go in there~!!_ ”

“The fuck I can’t~!”

Blinking, the rooms’ occupants baulking as a blonde woman with red eyes, sparking hands and _three_ security-guards hanging off of her burst into the room, Mirai felt his brows rise as Toshinori turned to stare at her, his mouth agape.

“B-Bakugo-san, you…”

“Can it!” she snipped, her hands shoving the struggling men off of her; “we haven’t got any time to waste so shut up and listen to me” she spat, his own hand lifting to stop any further security guards getting in her way.

“Aizawa Shouta has given me a shit ton of vital information that you need to hear and no, before you say anything, this information is _straight_ from the horse’s mouth” she snapped; “that boy, Tomura? He’s Shigaraki’s _heir_ ” she stated, her words causing them all to gasp.

“The kid has spilled all kinds of beans about All for One and where he’ll be in three days’ time” she added, her smirk fierce; “and Shou’s come up with a fucking _amazing_ plan to nail that mother-fucker’s balls to the wall, so listen up and listen good~!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> League of Cat-Dad, Activate~!
> 
> XD
> 
> I'm... I'm gonna go sleep now?
> 
> Tch... I'm'a gonna need ALL the coffee when I'm at work tomorrow~!
> 
> ;_;
> 
> XD


	49. The Plan…

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Warnings include: angst, reflections of Tomura's life as Shigaraki's heir, plotting/scheming/planning, swearing and...**
> 
> **Ffffffffffffeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeelllllllllllllsssssss~!!**
> 
> XD

His plan, while simple, had made the best of what he had to hand; the information Tomura had provided, the known skillsets of trusted individuals and the limited time-frame they had to work in.

Three days, of course, was not… _ideal_ , was it?

Thursday, _fucking_ Thursday, was either going to make or break the family and friends he’d collected.

If they failed…

If All for One escaped…

If he _got_ free, then…

No; he couldn’t afford to think that way…

He _would_ not allow himself to think about any, potential fallout because, well? 

What was the point in worrying over something that he could do nothing about?

He knew that he was making a powerful enemy here and yes, perhaps it was crazy to think that anyone, let alone him, someone who’d never entertained the idea of entering a hero-program could go up against a man that’d made Baukgo Mitsuki pale considerably when he’d raised the bastard’s name, but…

 _But_ …

What was the alternative?

Pack his kids up, sell the café, abandon the cats and get the fuck out of dodge?

Where would they go?

Who could they trust?

What about their community?

What about Kimiko? 

Their friends, the tots, All Might and the other Pros they’d come to know and care about, no…

 _No_.

There was too much at stake and he wouldn’t allow Shigaraki, _or_ anyone else, to get in his way and so, _the plan_ had unfurled in his mind and begged to be written.

 **Step 1?**

He’d deciphered the whispered words, shaky phrases and stuttered confessions Tomura (“ _my name… my **real** name, is Shimura Tenko… but I… I’d like you to keep calling my Tomura… I… Tenko died with the rest of my family that day…_”) had murmured with gentle encouragement and understanding.

He’d then broken what he’d learned down into the most poignant information and jotted what was necessary across a set of napkins.

Napkins that would line the two cake boxes Mitsuki would take out with her that afternoon as per her regular, Monday order.

And hell, had the poor boy had a lot of information to give him in that precious ten minutes before he’d met the woman he’d chosen to rope into his scheme (he had a feeling that she’d have been offended if he’d left her out, anyway; she was still a Pro, if only a semi-retired one):

Shigaraki had the ability to steal quirks through touch…

He had the ability to distribute them, as well…

He could combine them, evolve them, remake them all together…

He was old, intelligent and wealthy beyond imagination…

He _wanted_ something that only All Might possessed…

He _wanted_ to reshape the world in his chaotic image…

He _wanted_ society to revolve around the strong…

He _wanted_ to rule over everything, absolutely…

He _believed_ he was the hero of this narrative and that one thing, alone, made him more insanely dangerous than anything else.

Or so he’d thought…

“ _He… he doesn’t just rely on _people_ with quirks_” Tomura had murmured; “ _not all people can be broken, bride or brought onboard… not all of them can be led so he… he _makes_ servants with the help of man I’ve been told to call Doctor Garaki_” he breathed. “ _I’ve met him… a few times… he, he _embalmed_ my family’s hands he… the last time I saw him he was at Jaku Hospital… He makes these things, these undead _things_ called Nomu out of the quirks that Sensei steals he… he _knits_ them into blindly obedient servants he… he wants to do something similar to me…_”

God…

It’d been hard to hear and, as the teenagers sat (Dabi curved protectively around his partner) with him on the floor of their apartment’s living room, he’d allowed the sixteen-year-old to talk, unabated, and noted down what he knew Sir Nighteye, All Might and their associates would need to know.

Some things (the fate of the boy’s family, the heart-ache he’d endured, the _support_ and _encouragement_ he’d genuinely believed that Shigaraki (his _saviour_ ) had daubed on him through _kindness_ ) he’d kept off the record.

What had befallen the Shimura family wasn’t his tale to tell…

And he wouldn’t allow for any reprisals to be lodged against the teen, either…

“ _The Nomu are strong, vicious and virtually unstoppable… I… I don’t think they have a consciousness, well… aside from Kurogiri he… there’s a man… I’ve only ever heard Sensei ( _tch_ , such an ironic codename for that twisted bastard to use) call him _Twice_ … his quirk can make full-bodied copies of himself and others… Kurogiri was _created_ through one of those clones and several, blood-based quirks and he… I _think_ he has his own self-awareness but I can’t be sure…_”

Intel on the enemy, however, was well documented in his neat, tight handwriting, his ballpoint pen gliding over the soft-paper easily; he was making side notes as he went, his mind churning through information he’d seen in the Pro Hero books he’d read to Hitoshi and the information fact-files Izuku was always happy to share.

“ _He uses three, small air-strips but… but I’m pretty sure he’ll just send a car to pick me up like he usually does… I… if we’re heading north then I think he’ll be leaving from Ibiris airfield_ …”

He’d written down the other places that his youngest teen knew of, too; he circled them and added a note to Sir Nighteye about potentially hiding the people required to subdue their enemy in the storm-drains was something they should strongly consider.

The rain pattering down, outside, would hopefully tell them how usable and free of debris they were, too.

“ _I don’t know how many quirks he’s currently got in his system, but… he _never_ walks around unguarded he… he _sees_ things without seeing but… he can’t detect powerful quirks outright or I’m _sure_ he would have taken yours, Shou…_”

Yeah.

He didn’t want to think about that, either; however, as he’d stressed, _several times_ across the napkins he was carefully compiling, he knew that his power could be the key to their success.

This line of thinking had led to: **Step 2:- The Key Players**

Now, he’d taken a few liberties here (he was honest in his commentary, he _knew_ that All Might would have contacts _far_ beyond anyone he could name; however… would he be able to assemble them in time? The people he was suggesting were known Pros or students who, to his knowledge, could work in tandem to bag the bastard _right now_ ), but…

Regardless of him only being licensed to use his quirk in the ‘ _public interest_ ’, he knew that that would entitle him (legally) to help take down Japan’s Number 1 Villain because, well? Surely seeing him locked up _was_ **in** the public’s _best_ interest, right?

Whether the ‘ _Symbol of Peace_ ’ wanted to acknowledge it or not, he could be of significant help: “this man has threatened the lives of people I care about… and that includes you, you big-hearted idiot…”

However, would his power be enough?

Hence, the next two key-players he wanted to bring in.

His little brother Naoki was _no longer_ little; he was seventeen, going on for eighteen and in his final year of a hero course at Ketsubutsu Academy.

He didn’t go by Naoki now, either (although he’d _always_ by Naoki to him); no, his official name was Nishiya Shinji now, and his codename was Kamui Woods.

Thinking back to the tearful, bark-skinned, clingy yet determined little boy he’d tried his best to raise, it wasn’t hard to imagine him as a tall, powerful and forward-thinking Pro in the making, the skin he’d once cursed now a versatile tool which could sprout to ensnare, bind and hold even strength enhanced individuals.

Then there was his mentor (whom he’d met when his youngest brother had entered the Academy), a deceptively small, slight woman who he only knew as “ _Full Throttle_ ”; from what his care-centre sibling told him, she had a quirk which made the quirks of anyone she touched ten times stronger.

With her boosting his erasure, he _knew_ that he could disrupt, if not completely disable, many of Shigaraki’s stolen abilities. 

As for the other people he thought should be there, he listed them as follows:

*All Might: his strength, speed and knowledge of the enemy would be vital. Their goal was to subdue All for One and, with most of those thieved quirks vanishing for as long as he could keep his eyes open, he could give him windows to punch, pummel, kick and _‘Smash_ ’, couldn’t he?

*Ragdoll: she’d be able to “see” where the bastard and _any_ of his Nomu were; sure, they weren’t _people_ (he shuddered; he’d think on those atrocities, later) per say _but_ they’d emit a life-force… and life-forces, she could track. Therefore, she’d be able to give them quick, relevant information as to where they were or how they were moving, wouldn’t she?

Thinking about it logically, between her and Sir Nighteye, _Sensei_ and his cronies wouldn’t have any place to go where they couldn’t follow.

 _Good_.

*A selection of long-range quirk users to batter any Nomu _and_ their main target to compensate for him blinking and Kamui Woods’ bindings being snapped off and regrown.

If they were all long range fighters then they could move, not get hit by Shigaraki in close quarters (keeping their abilities safe; the last thing they needed was to provide the prick with an arsenal he could exploit) or his minions and _still_ keep hammering him down. Mitsuki, he was sure, would like to be considered and he was certain that Nedzu would know of more; however, he’d cautioned against the current _Number 2_ (heh, _appropriate toilet humour aside_ ) since Endeavour was known for show-boating and would probably burn them all if he deemed it necessary.

Hell; a surly, narcissistic asshole like _him_ being a Pro was one of the main reasons why he _didn’t_ want to be one.

Heh… it didn’t stop him from daydream about throwing a pail of water over the prick _just_ to get rid of that _ridiculous_ , flaming beard he liked to show off.

Tch.

Thoughts for later…

*The Pro Hero 13; if they could reach them, they could be a match for Kurogiri, couldn’t they?

He’d left anyone else to All Might and his team’s discretion which led, ultimately, to **Step 3: The Sting Operation**.

Admittedly, he’d reasoned out a few rational ideas; however, he didn’t know of the right quirk users to pull it off… _completely_.

To his mind (and he’d told Sir Nighteye that he was, by no means, an expert; he’d go along with any other strategy, of course), this would be relatively simple to orchestrate _but_ difficult to carry out.

They were targeting an ancient evil; _nothing_ about this was going to be easy, right?

**Phase 1: Decoy**

Thursday morning, 08:00, a car would pull up to Tomura’s current, official residence to collect him and drive him to the air-strip; however, on Wednesday night, _Tomura_ would sneak out of the Noraneko with his bag of belongings and make his way _home_.

 _Tomura_ (he hoped and prayed) would be played by a Pro who could shape-shift whilst the real sixteen-year-old was safely tucked up in bed and surrounded by his found family and further protection besides.

If there _was_ a Pro out there who could alter their appearance, they could visit the café incognito, eat, drink and be sneaked into the cat-maintenance room where they’d go up the stairs and wait out the evening in the apartment, couldn’t they?

Shit; surely _someone_ the Number 1 Pro knew could do such a thing…

**Phase 2: Entrapment**

Similarly, he would have sneaked out of his apartment (the local Pros, whom he and his teens trusted, could be brought into the apartment easily to look after them whilst Hitoshi would be having a _sleepover_ with the Midoriya’s) to take his _morning run_ a little later than usual.

He could be picked up by someone from Sir Nighteye’s Agency and taken to the airfield relatively quickly and easily, couldn’t he?

Then, once _Tomura’s_ car was _nearly_ at the airfield, the trap would be sprung. 

The decoy (with assistance) could take on the Nomu chauffer (his youngest lodger was very confident that Shigaraki wouldn’t pick him up personally; the man had certain _habits_ and liked to enjoy a rich breakfast on the ground (with a cigar or two), read the morning paper and drink champagne before a flight; tch, _prick_ ) and _they_ could take on the big man.

He’d also advise them to track down Garaki _but_ had added that he didn’t want to sound like he was “teaching you to suck eggs”.

Heh…

As he reviewed his notes he wondered, mildly, if he wasn’t being a little… _silly_.

He wasn’t a tactician, he was a café owner, cook, child-minder and self-defence tutor…

But…

He had to do something…

He had to _write_ something or he’d burst…

He’d be fine with them laughing at him, throwing his ideas out of the window (he’d told Sir Nighteye as much); _however_ he couldn’t just sit back and do nothing.

He was going to be at the air-field, regardless.

Then, after he’d hugged his teens, he’d put the napkins (carefully covered with sterile, plastic coverings so the cake didn’t ruin them) into two boxes and made his way downstairs. 

His oldest boys would be following a little later; they had talking of their own to do, didn’t they?

Hell, it’d taken him a while to calm them both down and convince them that they should _stay_ at the apartment on Thursday; the illegality of them using unregistered quirks aside, he could take care of him, he trusted All Might to keep him safe, too but…

He wanted Shigaraki _nowhere near_ them, Hitoshi or any of his precious people; shit, if it wasn’t for Naoki being older and so capable, he wouldn’t have asked to get him involved, either.

Hmm…

However, he’d tried his best not to dwell on such things before he spoke to Mitsuki, begged his favour and heard back from the men he wanted to work with…

Who he wanted to work with him…

~*~

Pulling a wad of _napkins_ (?) from her bosom, All Might baulking, Gran Torino huffing and his eyebrows reaching for his hairline, Mirai watched as she waved them at him before slamming them down upon the desk, the fierce smirk she wore primed with pride and pleasure.

“Heh… you boys need to hurry up and get everyone’s favourite cat-dad on the payroll” she told them before fanning the squares out in a set order, the gleam in her crimson eyes brokering no argument; “well? Don’t just stand there like a bunch of morons! Come and take a look” she ordered.

Cocking his head to the side (a smile threatening his lips as Toshinori was the first to sidle next to the grinning woman, his body having skirted around the huffing-puffing Gran Torino who glowered at them and the Police Force Officers (young Naomasa was in their number, his eyes wide), the sidekick was swift to follow.

What he saw had his brows lift even higher.

“This… _this_ is…”

“Pretty _fucking_ ingenious, huh?” Mitsuki nodded before, her countenance shifting at speed; “and before any of you even _think_ of approaching Tomura without Shou or Dabi there, then you’ll have to go through me and the rest of Pros who know and care about them, you hear?” she grunted, her arms folding whilst she glared at the old man on the side-lines.

“And just who in the world are you, _madame_ , to dictate terms to us?” he grumped, his diminutive body powering into the air, his wrinkled eyes slipping from her to where his protégé and his sidekick were reading.

“I’m someone you don’t want to fuck with, old timer” she returned, a crackle of explosive power momentarily haloing her; “oh, and for the entrapment? I am _all in_ ” she said, her attention shifting from the grumbling elder whilst she elbowed All Might. “He believes that you’ll keep us all safe and _I_ want to get a couple of blasts across his smug, prick face for _daring_ to sully the Noraneko and buying up those fruit pies” she stated firmly, her left fist punching into her opened right palm.

“ _Fruit-pies?_ ”

Regarding the senior Pro, Mirai _definitely_ smiled this time; “they’re exceptional” he admitted: “not unlike Aizawa Shouta himself” he furthered, his hand gesturing over the napkins, an amazed, pleased laugh leaving him. “He came up with all of these logical, _doable_ ideas in ten-minutes?” he breathed; “if I didn’t know him, I wouldn’t have believed it” he added before, his gaze slipping to All Might: “what do you say, Toshinori?” he pushed. “**Kyure Kurūgā owes us a favour, doesn’t she? With her quirk, she could _easily_ become Tomura, couldn’t she?”

Nodding, that awful tension (filled with guilt, worry, fear and regret) started to leave those massive shoulders, his smile filled with wonder; “my God” he breathed. “Yes… we could easily use the storm drains to our advantage, too… we could swap out maintenance workers with Police Force officers tomorrow to stake out the land… we could have them go to all three airfields, couldn’t we? I…”

“Now just _hold on_ a minute!” Gran Torino ordered; “you’re _seriously_ considering a plan of attack based on a civilian cook _not_ interrogating this… _Tomura_ boy?” he sneered: “have you all taken leave of your senses, you…”

“Have you _even_ read his notes?” All Might challenged, all three of them scowling at the elder whilst some of the officers started to photograph the immaculate writing.

“Feh, fine” he muttered, his body moving to land on a pulled-out chair so that he could appraise the napkins, his stoic face slowly giving way to awe.

“ _See_?” Mitsuki preened; “you can’t fault that kind of logic, can you?” she expounded, her crimson eyes glinting.

“So” she said to the room at large; “what do you want me to tell him when my son and I head over for our usual breakfast orders tomorrow, hmm?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AFO~! We're coming for you, you smug prick~!
> 
> Also...
> 
> Cyrene Krueger (キュレ•クルーガー, Kyure Kurūgā) originally born as Perses Jackson (ジャクソン•ペルシェ, Jakuson Perushe) is a retired Pro-Hero and trans activist. 
> 
> Her quirk is "shape-shifting" and, in the Vigilantes series, she's A Pro hero turned serial-killer...
> 
> For the intentions of this AU, she's still a Pro~!
> 
> XD
> 
> And so, friends, the stage is set...
> 
> AFO isn't going to know what hit him~!
> 
> XD


	50. Game, Set...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Warnings include: CLIFF HANGER ENDING~! READ THIS WITH THE NEXT UPDATE (SATURDAY EVENING GMT) IF YOU DON'T WANT THE SUSPENSE (but hey, you want suspense? Have at it~!), swearing, scheming, planning, ANGST and...**
> 
> **FFFFFFFFFEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEELLLLLLLLLLLLSSSSSSSSS~!!**
> 
> XD

Keeping up appearances within the café had been, thankfully, _doable_.

Tomura still stayed the night, went back to his apartment to work and returned in the afternoons; he’d met with Kurogiri on Wednesday morning, the regal looking servant having confirmed that he would be picked up at 08:00 on Thursday from that address. He’d packed up a bag that the Nomu had taken and informed him about his plan to leave in the middle of the night; he’d told him that he couldn’t go through with Sensei’s suggestion and just wanted to get away without a trace so no one followed him or tried to stop him.

As far as the boy was aware, he thought that All for One’s most slippery associate had believed him.

He’d also been told to “ _bring some more food from the Noraneko, if you can_ ”.

Tch.

He had a good mind to poison a cake and gift-wrap it for the old bastard _but_ , regardless of his personal feelings, murder was wrong _and_ if the Food-Practises & Standards Agency ever found out, well?

That’d be his certification out of the window and a stretch in prison besides.

 _Shigaraki-san_ wasn’t worth him being taken from his kids or losing his livelihood and so, that evening (his apartment was at full capacity; Hitoshi was safely with Inko and Izuku, the three of them being watched over by five Police Force Officers and two Pro Heroes from Nedzu’s school; the tots had been thrilled), he boxed up a few pieces of left-over cake and a scone.

It’d look suspicious if Tomura managed to snag a full cake or pie at night-time, wouldn’t it?

The box, similarly, didn’t have any kind of tracking device or bug; _everything_ needed to be _normal_.

Then, he’d set the alarm, switched off the lights and gone to bed.

Loud Cloud, Midnight and Present Mic were happily camped out in the living-room which housed the TV; they were lazing on cushions and a few air-mattresses that they’d managed to sneak in, as well.

Dabi and Tomura were in Hitoshi’s room (because it was next to his; he wanted them close) whilst Kyure Kurūgā (a friendly enough woman who’d fawned over his youngest teen’s room, gotten herself settled, easily captured the teen’s shape, borrowed an outfit and begged him for his strawberry short-cake recipe.

As far as he was concerned, she could have the recipe and unlimited access to the dessert for the rest of her life so long as they all came out on the other side of this… _mess_.

Naomasa and Sansa were also staying the night; he’d made them all a slap-up, evening meal (that’d been easy enough to get up stairs with no one seeing him and knowing that it wasn’t just the standard, four occupants of the living-space) and they’d tried to relax, tried to rest.

Tried to prepare for a battle that none of them could afford to lose.

Then the lights went out when they normally did and, at 01:07, Kurūgā made her escape in _Tomura’s_ copied body.

She’d pushed open the bedroom’s window, shimmied down the pipe and quietly made her way into the night complete with the boy’s phone, tablet, a pair of quirk restricting gloves and a small satchel filled with personal effects.

They could replace such things, couldn’t they?

As she’d reached the apartment, she’d sent a text to Dabi’s phone (a sign to them that she’d made it, gotten inside and that she’d experienced no problems) to say good-bye, to apologise for disappearing, to send _his_ well wishes to Hitoshi and him.

It was something that the shortest of his two teens had scripted himself.

It was heart-breaking to read…

To think that this _could_ have really happened…

Then, at 05:45, he’d gone for his regular run (no tots; luckily, they didn’t _always_ join him) in his trusty black shorts, t-shirt and sneakers.

He looped the apartment complex three times before hopping into a concealed van whilst a _look-a-like_ hopped out; heh, luckily his hair and skin colouring, build and height were still pretty common and, at the pace the other was running, anyone watching the Police Force Officer would have been hard-pressed to tell them apart.

As the van pulled away, he was handed a Kevlar vest to strap on, a two-way ear-piece to wear and, once the technology was fitted, he’d nodded at the officers surrounding him and Sir Nighteye (sat in the only chair at the back the _Pizza Truck_ , his hands tapping away on a laptop) and rested his eyes.

However, a few seconds into their journey he felt a pleased smile pull at his lips; “ _neh, this is going to be one hell of a reunion, huh?_ ” Noaki’s voice hummed at him across the secured-channel.

“ _And is it true, Aizawa-nii? Do my younger siblings get to call you Shou? That’s not very fair… **cat-dad**_ …”

He’d snickered, they’d chatted a little and then, at Sir Nighteye’s instruction, radio-silence had hushed them all whilst that fancy, top of the range computer projected a 3D display into the darkened van’s interior to show them their plan in action. 

The undercover agents staking out the airfields told them, via encrypted text, that there was a deep-maroon Bentley Mulsanne on approach to Ibiris air-strip (just as Tomura had thought) and, thanks to Tomoko’s quirk, they’d identified Shigaraki who was travelling with a Nomu driver, Kurogiri and a subdued, fidgeting blonde man who they couldn’t name.

However, All Might’s sidekick had typed back that he believed this person could be _Twice_.

Securing him alive and unharmed (if at all possible) was rapidly posted near the top of the priority list; as far as they were concerned, this man was a captive in need of rescue and care.

To be imprisoned by All for One and forced to replicate himself, or other clones, for the purposes of experiments and goodness only knew what else, well?

No one should be forced to do such things.

Also, the officers snooping around Jaku Hospital were pretty sure that they’d found evidence of some kind of underground facility; several Pros had been dispatched including a man called Cementos.

If there _was_ anything concealed beneath the medical institution then his quirk would be able to find it, reveal it and still maintain the integrity of the building, ensuring that patients and staff would be safe.

Small mercies…

Then, at 07:55, everyone was in position and quietly, stealthily getting ready to do their parts as Ragdoll continued to observe their quarry from afar whilst the undercover Police Force officers diligently prepared the villain’s private-jet, brought him his breakfast and stowed his luggage just like the normal employees who’d been previously staffed there would.

Come 08:00 though, _Tomura_ had been collected; the undercover agents had watched and reported the car’s movements as it drove through the streets, joined a highway and followed the most obvious route to Ibiris’ small yet well-maintained air-field that only serviced smaller craft once every couple of weeks or so.

At 08:09, Kurūgā struck alongside the posse of Pro Heroes that All Might had called upon.

08:10 was their mark to move…

~*~

Humming to himself, his second cigar (the finest _Cuban_ Hoyo de Monterrey that money could buy and well worth it’s expensive price-tag) all but gone, Shigaraki folded his newspaper, placed it atop his dirty dishes and let out a content sigh.

The private room that he used in the small, luxury hangar was a comfortably airconditioned one and, as his delicious meal of gravlax, poached eggs and whole-wheat toast topped with caviar settled down amidst a few bubbles from the delectable Dom Perignon White Gold Jeroboam he’d been supping, he found himself decidedly pleased.

For what good was power and wealth if you didn’t get to treat yourself every so often?

“S-Sensei?”

Turning his head to where Bubaigawara Jin was sat across from him, his nervous disposition all the worse for being made to fly in a small craft ( _why_ the poor thing was so terrified of heights when _he_ would be there to save his wretched life was simply beyond him), All for One sighed out a “yes?”

“When… when we get to where we’re going I… I can rest for a while, right? _Sleep is for losers~!_ ”

Nodding in mock sympathy, the _poor_ man (more of a boy, really, just turned twenty-one and _far_ less competent than a certain café owner he’d recently gotten to know; hmm…) was curled into his chair pensively, the dry-toast he’d been given untouched, the glass of orange-juice un-sipped, his eyes tired and roving.

“My dear Jin” he soothed; “when we get to our summer home you can have all the rest you like” he assured: “you can go for walks in the woods, you can watch your favourite melodramas on the television, why… you can even create a clone for yourself to keep you company, how’s that, hmm?”

Tch.

If it wasn’t for his quirk being so useful (he could steal it and use it himself, of course, _however_ … looking at this fool’s mental-state, it was better to simply use and exploit him and not put his own mental acuity in danger) then he’d have disposed on him by now.

Or left him with Garaki _but_ , with _All Might_ having spotted him (he was no doubt tearing up the city’s underground fruitlessly searching for him, the simple-minded brute) it was better to keep his assets close to his chest and so he, Kurogiri, Tomura and Jin would sojourn to Hokkaido for a while.

It was cooler and quieter up there, after all, wasn’t it?

“T-thank you, sir… _that’s not fair~!_ ”

Hmm…

 _Maybe_ it was better to give him a sedative now; the other’s _shifts in personality_ were already starting to grate on his nerves, he…

“ **SHIGARAKI~!!** ”

Sucking in a breath before expelling it (well, well, well!), All for One slowly stood whilst Kurogiri manifested at his side obediently, the people he paid to prepare his jet scarpering (tch, good help was hard to find these days) as Yagi Toshinori (that arrogant, son of a whore!) appeared on the runway, his body walking with a group of similarly costumed idiots.

“Heh… and I was having _such_ a lovely morning” he sighed as he walked towards the sliding glass doors which parted at gesture of his hands, his relaxed form stepping into the warm, summer morning beneath its flawless, azure sky.

Ahh…

What a lovely day for carnage; but, before he _amused_ himself with that man and the piteous fools grand-standing before him, he needed to keep a certain dog of his in place, didn’t he?

“Jin? Stay where you are, _do not_ attempt to leave or I’ll cut off your arms and legs, do you understand?” he called over his shoulder whilst his most competent Nomu strolled beside him and six more started to gush free from the tears he’d made in reality, their writhing bodies howling as they burst through the grey-spray of his teleportation quirk.

“You got it, boss… _why are you so mean to me~?!_ ”

Then, his Italian leather shoes lightly scuffing on the tarmac, he looked around the empty air-strip; “very clever, _All Might_ ” he called, his hands gesturing around: “no innocent civilians, no buildings, no easy way for me to manipulate the odds in my favour… ha~! Could it be that you’re _finally_ learning?” he laughed. “Ah, and you brought your _surviving_ mentor and sidekick with you, eh? How _very_ considerate of you to bring me two of your precious people to crush” he admitted before sizing up the other Pros.

Some faces he recognised, some he didn’t _but_ , upon reflection, he supposed it didn’t matter.

They’d all look the same in one big, bloody pile of mangled limbs, wouldn’t they?

~*~

Currently dark eyes trained upon the scene, his body and that of Full Throttle concealed in a storm-drain, Shouta peered through the raised grid, his limbs loose, his mind focused as the Pro Hero behind him placed her dainty, gloveless hands upon his shoulders whilst they waited the signal.

Right now, All Might and the powerful, long-range fighters bracketing him (four on each side) alongside Gran Torino and Sir Nighteye were drawing All for One and Kurogiri out into the open so that the other concealed Pros (which included Mitsuki; he’d told her to be damned careful, she’d told him she wouldn’t die before she’d tried all of his recipes) could strike, too.

He could see the bastard and, thanks to the network of drains they’d mapped, he and his little brother’s mentor could scurry about, out of sight, to sneak attack if this position became compromised.

All they had to hope was that neither Japan’s Number 1 Villain or his friends got wise to them and ripped up the floor.

With any luck, they could subdue him before it came to that.

“It’s over, Shigaraki~!” the bronzed hero called (no capes, no gimmicks, his form swathed in the predominantly red body suit he tended to wear for his most dire battles); “surrender to our custody now and you’ll be given leniency, you have my word~!”

“Ha~! _Leniency_? Is _that_ all you’re offering, _old friend_?” the fiend laughed; “it is _you_ who should surrender” he countered: “do so now and _maybe_ I’ll grant you a swift death as opposed to a slow and agonising one~!”

“ _CD and FT, stand by._ ”

Swallowing thickly, he closed his eyes (he had a little bottle of eyedrops in his hands, ready to use so as to prolong his ability) took a breath and waited.

Naoki was concealed within the private jet (devoid of fuel, three other Pros with trapping capabilities hidden with him) and his children were safe.

He’d been allowed to have one, quick message to and from Dabi; Hitoshi and Izuku were at school (all of the tots were; a selection of Pros were roaming around nearby: he’d insisted upon it and All Might had made it happen) and he and Tomura had seen to the breakfast crowd with the Pros.

They were fine.

They were okay.

He’d see them soon.

“So that’s you’re final answer? You’ll not concede?”

“I’ll see you dead at my feet, Yagi~! You and _everyone_ you care about~!”

“ _CD and FT, you are a go._ ”

“ _Understood._ ”

~*~

The second that he’d seen Shigaraki openly flinch, his shadow encrusted lacky similarly baulking, Toshinori and his fellows moved.

13 was rushed onto the scene (from behind the hangar) by Speed-Bolt, all ten digits of their suit opened to start sucking Kurogiri up whilst All for One stuttered, stumbled and snarled (alongside the roaring Nomu) as they were wrapped, bound, snagged or thrown to the floor under heavy fire.

When he connected a full-force “ _ **TEXAS SMASH~!!**_ ” into the old fiend’s face, he could have _sworn_ that he’d heard Nana cheering him on in the recesses of One for All amid the voice of his predessors.

However, a one-punch knock out would always be a pipe-dream when facing off against this ancient evil and, even though Shouta-kun had given him a good twenty-two seconds worth of breathing room, the four hits he’d landed had only given the man a bloody nose and black eye.

But…

It was a great start.

“ _ **HOW DARE YOU, I… WAH~!!**_ ”

The crime lord and his warp-gate user (whom the eatery owner was to focus on; the Pros were wrangling the Nomu well enough on their own, thank God) hadn’t known what to do or where to turn for, within a split second, their powers were erased once more.

“ _ **DOUBLE DETROIT SMASH~!!**_ ”

13 and five other Pros were shrinking the shadowed menace down, his ability to move about as he pleased completely nullified as he staggered and struggled to remain conscious…

“ _ **NEW HAMPSHIRE SMASH~!!**_ ”

Shouta-kun’s _sibling_ was continually lacing and weaving Sensei’s legs, keeping him off balance whilst Snipe’s bullets hit key-pressure points, Mitsuki’s explosions burned and tarnished around a myriad of hissing lasers, shifting sand, pulses of electricity and Best Jeanists’ powerful threads.

At the rate his foe was taking damage, every second that their secret weapon’s quirk wasn’t trained on him was dedicated to healing the damage and trying to escape…

“ _ **NEBRASKA SMASH~!!**_ ”

Not that he’d allow that…

Not that he’d miss this chance…

 _Not_ that he’d stand for any of his friends and colleagues to be hurt, he…

“ **THAT IS ENOUGH~!!** ”

Yelping, all of them suddenly scattered and pressed to the floor under an ungodly force, Yagi hissed, his eyes wild as he got up despite the pressure, a worried look cast to where Shouta-kun and Full Throttle were.

Shit~!

 _ **Shit**_ ~! 

All for One had created a crater where he’d stood, the area around him full of dust, dirt and debris.

“ _CD and FT are fine… moving to view-point B… Kurogiri is down… hostage designated T is secure… three Nomu are down… continue firing… CD ETA one minute…_ ”

Oh…

Oh thank God, he…

“ _ **Bastard**_!” he roared whilst three of his associates were up and attacking once more, Kamui Wood’s branches intertwining with Best Jeanists’ powers whilst more bullets and explosions rained down.

They had to keep him down…

They had to pin him, quickly…

His friend would be able to assist them soon, they just had to hold on until then…

They could do this…

“ _ **CAROLINA SMASH~!!**_ ”

He _knew_ that they would…

~*~

Scrabbling through the storm drain, both of them cursing and moving at speed, Shouta found himself sending a silent prayer of thanks to Loud Cloud…

“ _Here… you might need these, Mr-I-Don’t-Wanna-Be-a-Pro-Pro…_ ”

“ _Huh? Goggles? Why?_ ”

“ _Your quirk only works when you can see someone, right? Well, I figure with these on not only will you _look_ cool **but** you’ll keep your eyes free of dust and… well? We all have a pair so… it’ll kind’a be like we’re there, fighting alongside you, you know?_”

… he’d hugged him, thanked him and passed them onto Bubble Girl when she’d left Wednesday evening after her regular coffee-stop and cram session.

They’d been waiting for him in the van and now, thanks to them and cloud quirk user’s (“ _heh, call me Oboro, okay?_ ”) thoughtfulness, after a quick wipe of them, he could see clearly.

No grit or debris thrown up by _Sensei’s_ temper-tantrum had gotten anywhere near his eyes which meant, as soon as he and the woman (light on her feet, eager to start again) behind him reached their next, raised grid, he focused his bloody gaze on the son of a bitch and watched him crumple to the ground.

Kurogiri, thank God, was now no longer an issue and so he’d focus every bit of his protective, righteous anger on the old fiend who’d ruined Tomura’s life, slaughtered thousands without a care and plagued All Might’s every waking and dreaming moment.

He would _not_ allow him to bring harm to anybody else he cared about.

They would stop him here…

And they would stop him, together…

Or so he’d thought…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fufufufufufufufuuuuuuuu~!
> 
> Oh... the next chapter, the NEXT chapter is gonna be...
> 
> _EPIC~!!_
> 
> In a good way, I swear~!
> 
> ***SPOILERS***
> 
> No one is gonna lose their innards... NOT ON MY WATCH~!


	51. Match!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Warnings include: canon typical violence, blood, threats, anger, worry, fear, BAMF-ness, BAMF-ness FOR DAYS~! Swearing, angst and...**
> 
> **FFFFFFFFFFEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEELLLLLLLLLLLLSSSSSSSSS~!!**
> 
> Woo~!
> 
> This sucker is over 8 PAGES LONG~!
> 
> I hope that it meets the hype I was building~!
> 
> Also... not gonna lie? I've been writing that Bakugo Mitsuki has a quirk just like her son's THIS ENTIRE TIME... 
> 
> This is not canon-compliant (which I only learned, like... 10 minutes ago? Ahaha... lazy-research is lazy?), but hey, I think it works~!
> 
> ^_^;;

The feeling of his plethora of stolen powers _abruptly_ subsiding had been…

“ **Yagi~!!** ”

_Infuriating, jarring and…_

“ **I’m going to pull out your guts and _strangle_ you with them for this~!!**”

 _Frightening_.

It had been decades, no, nigh on a century since he’d experienced such a thing…

“ **I’ll _slaughter_ you _all~!!_** ”

And he _didn’t_ wish to experience it any longer; however, his left-hand tearing at knotty-branches, his right slicing through toughened threads, his body moving, shifting, _baulking_ whilst he struggled to stay on his feet (the quirks which allowed him to levitate and fly stuttering in and out of existence every few seconds) he felt that fear intensifying.

But…

 _But_ , he would not run, no…

These peons needed reminding who he was…

Who they’d been _stupid_ enough to fuck with…

And so, with every second he felt his powers return (he’d been counting, from the first instance, after his initial shock; whomever or _whatever_ was stripping him of his quirks, the amount of time they could keep them inactive was diminishing; heh… _good_!) he lashed out with a vengeance.

With a sweep of his left arm, lava-swathed the area, causing the heroes to curse and fall-back, their attacks eaten by the molten rock, the branches, threads and other bindings disintegrating in plumes of steam, smoke and ash…

Then his powers were gone; a explosion to the head, a bullet through his shoulder…

A snarl curled from his lips…

They returned; his right fist connected with All Might’s jaw, sending him flying, the force of his punch puncturing the air and flashing out a tunnel of spiralling, vicious lightning to follow to further scatter the _heroes_ and scorch a few…

His private-jet, sadly, didn’t survive the impact…

Or explode.

Mores the pity…

“ **No~!** ”

His powers were gone; a bullet through his thigh (his healing, longevity and renewal quirks were having to work over-time), Gran Torino’s boot cracked his cheek, an explosion to his back _nearly_ toppled him.

 _Who_ was responsible?

 _What_ kept sapping his strength, stealing his power…

 _Making_ him _sweat_?!

They returned; his left foot ploughed into the ground, the tarmac and earth underneath trembling and shaking, splitting wide open, flinging five heroes in the air (including that _insufferable_ Sir Nighteye), the slabs of dirt he’d loosed landing to cover two Pros in huge chunks of heavy debris whilst his left hand released a flurry of bullets…

The decrepit, tiny, _ridiculous_ mentor to his current nemesis cried out, his caped-back peppered in pellets, as he fell from the air and skidded across the ruined ground like so much trash thrown from a speeding car…

 _Tch_.

With his reserves so low he _knew_ that his projectiles wouldn’t have been sharp or fast enough to kill the old fool _but_ , like the swatting of a mosquito, he had one less nuisance to worry about…

And he could _always_ have the pleasure of crushing that rickety-skull under his Italian shoe later, couldn’t he?

 _Yes_ …

His powers died away again; “ **no~!** ”

His lungs were straining, his limbs were tremoring; he _needed_ to end this quickly, he…

“ _ **DETROIT SMASH~!!**_ ”

_Shit~!_

Yowling under the downward force of All Might’s anger-fuelled attack, he felt himself spreading across the ground before it gave way beneath him; his bones were cracking, his jaw gritting and then, to his renewed sense of joy, his quirks returned…

Wheezing, he pushed back against the fist planted between his shoulder blades and, with a vicious, blood-curdling scream, released one of his more devastating abilities, his body becoming the epicentre of an explosive force…

“ _ **DEVIL-BOMB-BLAST~!!**_ ”

It was a risky move, he knew; he’d be in and out of consciousness for a minute or two _but_ , if the pain-laced scream ripping out of _Nana’s_ pathetic protégé was anything to go by (the sound rippling around the other heroes who’d probably been rushing in to finish him) then this was a gambit that would pay off.

“ _Wwwwwaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh~!!_ ”

Oh....

_Oh~!!_

He was going to _enjoy_ crushing each and every one of them with his bare, _bloody_ hands…

~*~

Ducking down, Full Throttle (shit; why were heroes so bloody self-sacrificing?) flinging herself atop him, the pair grunted as the _roof_ of their hiding place was blown away in a blast of hot, super-pressurised air.

Shit…

 _Shit_!!

He tried to hold onto her but, with a resounding **_BOOM_** , she was flung up and away _just_ as the blast subsided.

Fuck..

 _Fuck_!!

His ears were ringing, his goggles were cracked (heh; he’d be sure to buy Loud Cloud… _Oboro_ another pair) and the area was hazy with dust; God damn everything! He couldn’t see anyone, he…

Shit.

He’d promised Dabi and Tomura that he wouldn’t get directly involved; Hitoshi, the other tots and his community had _no_ idea what he was doing or why the café would be closed this afternoon and he’d _sworn_ to himself that Friday would be as normal, but…

 _But_.

The enemy was still out there (and more than likely responsible for that explosion, an explosion he’d not been able to stop because All Might and ploughed the man into the floor, out of his field of vision), he’d seen Naoki flung away by the fiend, Mitsuki dodging chunks of earth, Sir Nighteye flailing to the floor and Gran Torino plummeting from the air.

He _couldn’t_ just sit here in the dirt.

He _had_ to do something.

‘ _Boys_ ’ he thought, ‘ _everyone… I’m not going to die here if I can help it… I’ll find my way back to you, if I’m able… I hope… I hope you can forgive me if I screw this up because I _have_ to try_’ he furthered whilst pulling himself up and out of the fully exposed drain, his goggles discarded.

‘ _We’ve come too far to give up now…_ ’

~*~

Pulling himself up and out of the bowl his explosion had curved out of the air-strip, Shigaraki shuddered, wheezed and spat two of his teeth out with a hefty spackle of blood; oh…

 _Oh_ Yagi would pay for this…

Then, his head rolling around his neck, his hands patting his bespoke suit (ruined), tearing his tie free from his neck (the silk-threads were stained, shredded and spoiled) and running through his hair (scorched, charred, _dishevelled_ ), All for One checked his quirks (all present; his healing factor… _sluggish_ ) and huffed.

No one had attacked him…

He could hear yells, shouts and calls for help (the Police Force were on the scene, then?)…

The air was choked with smoke, ash and dust…

He was only running at around 40% of his usual prowess, most of his energy depleting as bones, sinew and muscles sewed themselves back together, his new teeth lowering, his bloodied right eye slowly opening with the reduction of swelling and bruising.

Heh…

Perhaps he’d _just_ have to settle for taking One for All, slaying _dear_ Yagi and getting himself to his nearest safe-house to recuperate.

Tch…

It wouldn’t make for his _greatest_ moment _but_ finally getting his hands on the quirk which _should_ have been his from the beginning and seeing the tarmac run _red_ with that foolish _boys_ blood would be _incredibly_ satisfying, wouldn’t it?

And so, with a hum, he floated out of the crater (not to high for fear of that strange numbness eating up his powers again) and used one of his sensory quirks to scout the area.

Two partially unconscious fools to his right, a few more fools to his left and…

 _Ahh_ …

Yagi _fucking_ Toshinori~!

Chuckling, his shoes (scuffed, marked, torn beyond a serviceable repair) touching down, he walked towards his foe (the top part of his _ridiculous_ body-suit long gone, his muscular chest, neck, shoulders and arms just as exposed and bruised as his lacerated face; heh… _good_ ) leisurely, his senses not detecting any threats.

For what good were the Police Forces’ bullets?

What _harm_ could befall him now that his wounds were healed?

Sure, a direct hit from his quarry (coughing, spluttering, struggling to get to his feet; poor _thing_ ) would sufficiently do him in _but_ , with a snap of his fingers, electrified tendrils whipped out from his legs to slither, hiss and snake around _All Might_ , binding him tightly, keeping him subservient...

On his knees…

Teeth gritted…

Nostrils, flared…

The sound of his agonised scream _music_ to his ears.

“Oh my, oh _dear_ ” he crooned, the voltage he was releasing upping with every step, a selection of the ultra-violet strands cording about the fool’s neck.

 _Squeezing_ …

“Does it hurt? Should I _finally_ put you out of your misery, hmm?” he laughed, his smile broadening as he stood before the gasping, writhing _Symbol of Peace_ , whose bloody fingers were _desperately_ scratching at his neck, _desperately_ trying to free up the crushing hold on his throat.

“Heh… what d’you say, _Yagi-kun_? Should I pop your head off like a champagne cork _or_ tear your beating heart _right_ out of your chest, hmm?” he asked conversationally; “oh? What’s that? You can’t decide?” he furthered, his tone laced with honey and mocking confusion.

“Well, then allow me to _choose_ for you, neh? For old times’ sake? I…”

“ _ **Get the fuck away from him, you son of a bitch~!!**_ ”

Snarling (shit, his observational quirk required more energy than what he could provide right now, didn’t it?), Shigaraki hissed as an explosive force rocketed around his head ( _far_ stronger than before) whilst a surge of branches tore past him, cutting through his tendrils ( _tch_ ; wood didn’t conduct electricity well, did it?).

Letting free a roar of anger (he’d been _so_ fucking _close!_ ), he grabbed the masses of boughs and tornado-threw the wily scamp (surely too young to _actually_ be a Pro, he was sure) straight into All Might, sending both of them tumbling out of the way.

“Who’s a bitch now, _child_?” he sneered with another healthy spit before he turned to face whomever had _dared_ to launch a fire-ball at his head, his hands curling into fists whilst he primed his feet to _stomp_ them into a shallow grave, he…

“Shigaraki-san.”

Oh?

_Oh?_

“Well, well, well~!” he laughed, his smile fierce and tone delighted as he allowed his cerulean eyes to take in Aizawa Shouta’s form, his hand outstretched (what a stupid, _foolish_ and suicidal thing to do) from where he’d clearly released the blast which’d further singed his hair. “Aizawa-kun” he chuckled; “you _do_ surprise me~!” he admitted, the haze of smoke starting to recede in the breeze as the lava he’d loosed continued to cool, the fires it’d caused dying out.

“You surprised me, too” the raven-haired man admitted, his wavy locks of raven hair waving in the wind, those dark eyes narrowed; “you could be a good man, you know” he furthered: “you _don’t_ have to keep walking the path you’re on…”

“Ahh~! So, you hope to sway me, do you?” he chortled, his legs walking towards the other, his aura crackling intimidatingly; “heh… if you’d arrived here with some of your baked-goods you might have had an easier time of it” he admitted with a smirk.

It would, upon reflection, be a shame to kill to this man _but_ any mercy he might have known died a long time ago, hadn’t it? Therefore, he drew more power to himself, his eyes narrowed and grin menacing.

The café owner, however, remained where he was, his features impassive regardless of his perilous situation, that hand still outstretched but showing _no_ signs of launching another blast.

How very… _interesting_ …

“I’m not hoping to do anything” he eventually, _calmly_ replied; “I’m just advising you” he added, those handsome features unflinching and resolved: “a person’s past isn’t important… it’s the future that matters… _ah~!_ ”

Grinning predatorially, he had the pale column of the younger man’s neck in his grasp (oh, so fragile, _so_ easy to snap) and, as he lifted him off the ground to stare into those eyes (not frightened, even now; heh, he could respect that) he loosened his grip _just_ enough for him to breath…

 _Just_ enough to hear his final words…

“A-ah? And it seems that you _do_ have a quirk, although it's not _exactly_ special, after all Aizawa-kun? Hmm… and here I’d thought you powerless… just a sweet young man with a talent for baking” he mused; “and worse still, you’re a bleeding-hearted little do-gooder too, aren’t you, hmm? Such a pity…”

~*~

Swallowing thickly (the part of him that _wasn’t_ screaming about the lunacy of abandoning his sense of self-preservation _beyond_ thrilled that the bastard had taken the bait), Shouta flinched, his body struggling in what he _hoped_ looked like a pathetic, worried display.

He could hear Naomasa in his ear; All Might was up, he just needed a _little_ more time.

He could give him that…

He _would_ … 

“Y-yeah… that’s right… on _all_ counts…” he rasped, his hands _desperately_ scrabbling at the hand around his neck, the other’s mouth tilting into a cruel, pleased smirk.

‘ _Heh… let’s see if you’re smiling in a minute, you smug prick…_ ’

“I... I _have_ a quirk... and now _you_ don’t~!”

Igniting his bloody gaze, his adrenaline pumping, the eatery owner regulated his breathing and went through the movements he’d put into place across his mind.

“W-what?!”

Feeling the older man’s super-strength vanish, he _viciously_ snapped the other’s wrist that he’d grasped with one quick, fluid movement…

“ _Aaaahhhhhh~!!_ ”

… drew the bastard towards him whilst throwing his leg up with swift, _ruthless_ efficiency, his shin smashing into the fiend’s crotch…

“ _ **Oooooofffffff~!!**_ ”

… before stepping back, his crimson eyes still locked onto him, his hair swirling ominously in the air as the country’s Number 1 Villain curled over, his lips spilling strained curses, hisses and promises of death…

“Y-you sneaky, infuriating… _**bastard**_ Pro, I’ll…”

Keeping his eyes open and ignoring the stinging (“ _All Might’s on approach… he… he’s going to go all out~! Just hold him a little more CD~!_ ”), Shouta kept his face impassive, their gazes locked…

“Oh, I’m not a Pro… I’m just, what did you call me? A sweet young man with a talent for baking…” he told him with a mild shrug; behind the fiend, in his periphery, he could see the dust clearing further still in the wake of flashing, blue-neon eyes, crackles of power and a _familiar_ smile…

“W-what?”

The ground started to shake and tremble, the pebbles at their feet were skittering and chattering as the plume of haze popped like a dirty bubble of dust…

“ _He_ , on the other hand, _definitely_ is…”

Then, his mind taking a split second to appreciate the look of dawning horror upon the old shithead’s face, the erasure quirk user fell backwards into a series of back flips to put as much distance between himself and the impending attack as possible…

“ _ **UNITED STATES OF SMASH~!!**_ ”

Heh…

He _almost_ felt sorry for Shigaraki…

“ _ **Nnnnnooooooooooooo~!!**_ ”

_Almost…_

~*~

At first, when Aizawa Shouta had rushed to her side, his hands helping to clear the muck from her eyes, nose and mouth, Bakugo Mitsuki had felt a range of emotions which included relief (thank God he was okay~!), anger (how had that bastard villain knocked her on her ass _so_ hard?!), worry (they hadn’t won yet) and disbelief…

“You want to do _what_?!”

As she, Kamui Woods and Full Throttle (the latter having been carried to where the young, tree-quirked man had managed to hide her, an unconscious Best Jeanist, wounded Sir Nighteye (and similarly passed-out Gran Torino) by Shouta, her slender, injured form safe in his arms) she’d _also_ wanted to strangle the magnificent man…

“We’ve not got time to debate this” the café owner had breathed; “together, we can give All Might the opening he needs” he stated, their words similarly broadcast over the ear-pieces they all wore with the Police Force listening in: “you heard Snipe… he’s in danger and it looks as though Shigaraki is getting up” he stated.

“God damn it, Shou~!” she hissed; “ugh! _Fine_ ~! But if you get hurt _so help me God_ I’ll revive you _just_ to smack you into next week” she growled, her hands crackling with explosive energy.

“Heh… no arguments here” he’d smiled at her (and God damn fucking _everything_ , there was _no_ arguing with that face, was there?); “okay… Snipe’s got eyes on All for One but he’s pinned down and out of ammo” he added: “and that prick will no doubt head straight for All Might” he said, his brows furrowing. “Full Throttle? You’re going to boost Mitsuki’s explosions from a hidden position… heh, luckily he’s given us plenty to choose from” he stated whilst waving at the airstrip; “then, since he knows me and won’t expect me to be here… I should be able to distract him for long enough” he mused. “With my hand out-stretched and the blast being ten times stronger, that should trick him into thinking that that is my quirk” he reasoned; “then I can reel him in close enough to knock him down a peg or two…”

“T-that is _way_ too dangerous~!” the Academy teacher breathed, her head shaking and arms crossed before her ample-chest; “we can’t let you do that, Aizawa-kun~! It’s madness and…”

“It… it’ll work…”

Gasping, her head (and those of the others) had snapped to Sir Nighteye, his golden eyes violet as he gazed at Shouta, his smile wide, a shocked laugh leaving him even as he pressed a blood-soaked napkin to his temple; “I’ve seen him do it” he breathed in wonder. “What he plans to do is… _magnificent_ ” he added before nodding at Kamui Woods; “and he won’t be alone, of course…”

When she moved her eyes to the youngest of their assembly, a guilty expression _somehow_ crossing his wooden-masked face (ahh, a look she’s seen on her own boy’s countenance one too many times), Mitsuki snickered.

However, in true, cat-dad fashion, the man (who was _more_ than happy to risk his own life _but_ heaven forbid that anyone he cared about try) grunted out “you better be careful, Naoki, or there’ll be no more macaroons for you~!” whilst his little brother bowed his head, sheepishly: “okay, Aizawa-nii… there’s no need to get so serious…”

“Ha~! Don’t tell me that recklessness runs in the family” she chuckled, her laugh being shared with _everyone_ aside from a wide-eyed, sputtering Full Throttle.

“Y-you… you’re all _nuts_ , you…”

“Can it, sister” she promptly snapped, her gauntlet covered hand snagging the slenderer female by the collar of her pink and cream costume; “now come on” she grinned, her eyes wild with determination: “let’s go fuck that asshole’s shit up~!”

Then, having dragged the smaller, lighter woman (“ _wah~! Bakugo-san~! I c-can walk, you know~!_ ”) with her, they’d sped to an impact crater, dropped in, and listened to the intel flooding through their ear-pieces.

Just as the eatery owner had predicted, Shigaraki was looming towards All Might, his arrogant face smirking as though he’d _fucking_ won, his tailored pants shredding from below the knee as hundreds of electrified eel-like tendrils lashed out to bind the Number 1 Pro.

Not on _their_ watch, he wouldn’t~!

“ _KW… now~!_ ”

At Naomasa’s order, the seventeen-year-old (just as agile as his _Aizawa-nii_ ; tch, so fucking cute~!) had launched himself like a Pro with ten times his experience (and she’d found herself so, _unbelievably proud_ ) to do as Sir Nighteye suggested, his branches moving to shove the villain _and_ ensure that he and All Might could get to safety.

When the first boughs made contact…

“ _FT, BM… attack~!_ ”

“With **pleasure** ~!”

At the feel of the blue-haired woman’s touch upon her taught biceps, she’d felt her largest attack swell between her palms and shoot free, her aim true (‘ _eat that, you mother fucker~!_ ’) as it collided with the dick-wad’s head.

_Tch…_

She would have been happier if she’d knocked it clean off his suited shoulders, but still…

All Might’s side-kick was never wrong…

He’d seen this plan work…

However, as she watched Shouta approach All for One, she couldn’t help the fear clutching at her chest…

She didn’t push Full Throttle away when the younger woman leaned next to her, dainty hands covering her mouth in worry, either…

‘ _You’ve got to be okay, Shou_ ’ she whispered to him in her mind; ‘ _we need you, we love you… you _cannot_ die here… you… oh…_’

“ _HOLY SHIT~!_ ” she stage whispered in jubilant-glee, her crimson eyes dancing with pride and celebration.

“Did… did he just _crotch shot_ the greatest evil our country has ever known?” the green skinned woman next to her gasped, her tone laced with mirth.

“ _Yes he FUCKING did~!_ ” she laughed, their arms wrapping about each other as they hugged and squealed like fangirls at a concert; “ _he is SO fucking badass, oh my God~!_ ” she praised before, her gaze clocking onto a menacing (yet somehow _ridiculously protective_ ) force, she then looked at Full Throttle (who’d seen the presence, too).

Baulking (and watching as Shouta back-flipped towards them), she and the teacher reached out for him, snagged him and brought him into their embrace so they could hunker down…

“ _ **UNITED STATES OF SMASH~!!**_ ”

That had to do it…

There was _no way_ that Yagi could have missed, he…

“ _He… he’s down~! Ragdoll has confirmed it~! That son of a bitch is out-cold~!_ ”

Then, her arms giving the café owner who’d changed her life, helped to heal her son, saved the fracturing friendship between them and the Midoriya’s whilst providing a safe-place for them all to grow, live and laugh in together a firm squeeze as the latest plume of dirt started to settle down all around them, Mitsuki pressed a sisterly kiss to his temple.

“I don’t know who you are or where you came from, Shou-chan” she gushed as they all breathed a sigh of relief; “but I couldn’t be prouder to have you as my friend~!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oooohhh...
> 
> There're gonna be SO MANY feels in the coming chapters, guys~!
> 
> And hugs...
> 
> And...
> 
> *Spoilers*
> 
> I won't say anymore~!
> 
> XD
> 
> I'm having SO MUCH FUN with this and, what's up next, you ask? Why... Major Plot Point 3, of course...
> 
> Hold on Todorki family~!
> 
> We're coming to save you~!


	52. Credit Where Credit is Due…

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Warnings include: angst, references to injury/medical settings, reflections on what it takes to be a hero/sacrifices/there's no such thing as invincible, swearing and...**
> 
> **FFFFFFFFFEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEELLLLLLLLLLLLLSSSSSSSSS~!!**
> 
> Like so... so many feels~!
> 
> XD
> 
> Also attempted humour because I HAD TO~!

The next ten minutes had been a blur but, as Mitsuki _dragged_ him towards the paramedics (“ _I-I’m fine… it’s just a little bruising around my neck, that’s all…_ ”, “ _ha~! I’m not letting you get away without a health-check, Shou~! I wouldn’t be able to look your boys in the eye _ever_ again if I did_”), Shouta couldn’t help his relief.

They’d done it…

Tomura was safe…

 _All_ of them were…

And, as he watched (dispassionately) the Police Force officers (alongside four new Pros who’d rushed to the scene on Tsuragamae Kenji’s orders) jump in to the _hole_ All Might had _buried_ All for One in with all kinds of fancy, quirk-restricting bindings, he found that he could care less that the man was _breathing_.

He’d never thought of himself as _particularly_ blood-thirsty, but…

He wouldn’t have shed a tear at the bastard’s funeral, either, he…

“ _Aizawa-nii-san~!! That was _AMAZING_ ~!_”

“Oooffff~!!”

Blinking (the sound of Mitsuki’s laughter joining Full Throttle’s and Naomasa’s (with Ragdoll, too; she’d been squealing through the open channel… _a lot_ ) filling his senses), Shouta folded his arms (the explosion quirk user having let him go) about his brother (almost his height now) amidst the wrecked airstrip scene. “Heh… you were pretty great yourself, Naoki-kun” he praised warmly, his left arm slung across the costumed-boy’s shoulders as the four of them continued their approach to the ambulances that’d been allowed through a police blockade.

A police blockade which was keeping out _hordes_ of media-vans…

 _Shit_ …

No thanks…

“Maa-aa~! Shinji-kun, why didn’t you tell me that your older brother was so competent?” Full Throttle grinned from next to her student; “you wouldn’t happen to be interested in teaching at all, neh, Aizawa-san?”

Regarding the woman with a non-plussed expression (somewhere, he was sure, he’d just heard Nedzu violently sneeze; shit, he was probably eavesdropping and cursing right now: Present Mic would have hacked into their communication relays so they could _listen in_ , surely) he quickly shook his head whilst his care-centre sibling snickered.

“Heh… sorry, Sensei… but Aizawa-nii is _way_ too busy to have a _third_ career” he told her, his tone laced with mirth whilst Mitsuki nodded along with a chuckle.

“He’s right, my friend” she smirked; “and besides… you’d have to convince all of his customers, the rest of his younger siblings and a wider community of fans he’s secured over the past few months to let him go~!” she stated, her smirk fierce as she wrapped an arm about his waist. “Nah~! Let’s just say that there’s _no_ chance that we’d ever consider it~!” she preened, her smile broadening as he similarly curled his arm about her, his eyes casting around as the teacher tried to argue, his tree-quirked brother laughed and the blonde tittered.

God…

They’d been _so_ fucking lucky, hadn’t they?

Best Jeanist (an up and coming Pro destined for the Top Ten list if Katsuki’s praise of him was anything to go by) was laid out upon a stretcher and being carried to help alongside Gran Torino (still unconscious but he’d live) and Sir Nighteye (who he’d nodded to as he’d passed them on his own stretcher; the smile he’d received back was breath taking).

The other Pros (some limping, all smiling despite their injuries) were similarly ambling along with the aid of Police Force officers, their bodies moving through the torn-up landscape and skirting the still blistering-hot lava, boulders of earth and jet-plane-pieces.

Damn.

They’d had to go through _all_ of this _just_ to take out one villain?

Shit.

He was so glad that he’d been here, that Full Throttle had enabled him to keep the bastard off kilter but still, it made him wonder…

Surely a man powerful enough to do _all of this_ had many, similarly powerful lackies and, not that he should bring it up (he wasn’t a Police Force officer or Pro), but…

He’d not heard anything about the raid on Jaku hospital or whether Garaki had been arrested or not…

He was sure that the (by all accounts frail) doctor _wouldn’t_ make a move against them on his own; however, knowing that he was still at large was…

 _Troubling_ …

Hmm…

“Oi… I know that look and I am telling you, right now, as your brother who loves you, to knock it off~!”

Blinking out of his thoughts, his eyes sliding to _Kamui Woods_ (God, he was _so_ unbelievably proud of him; he’d overcome so much, lived through the pain and stigma of being so different compared to his peers and gone on to become a person destined for a Pro Hero License), Shouta smiled and tightened the arm he’d looped about the youth’s shoulder. “Uh-huh?” he pushed; “and what look is that, neh?”

“You’re _over-thinking_ and, worse still, looking for the storm cloud on this perfect, summer of a morning, Shou~!” the other accused, his brown eyes narrowing at him through the mask he wore. “Honestly, you should be strutting, man~! You punted one of the great threats our country has _ever_ known in his crusty old balls… ugh… I mean” he stuttered when his Pro Mentor tutted. “Ahh~! Sorry, sensei… but, he did, you know?”

“Oh yes” the daintier of the two costumed women grinned; “Bakugo-san and I had front row seats” she added, the four of them laughing; “and… although crudely phrased, Shinji-kun is right, Aizawa-san” she offered fondly: “this is a time for rest and celebration” she stated, her smile resplendent. 

“Any other bad news will have to take a back-seat for another day, don’t you think?”

~*~

Sat with five paramedics _all_ fawning over him (and no, he was _not_ going to the hospital _just in case_ , thank you; he was fine, the bruises on his neck (although still darkening) weren’t anything to worry about: he’d just wear a bandana until they went away), Shouta sighed.

His little brother (bruised, tired and hungry but otherwise fine), Full Throttle (sprained ankle) and Mitsuki (similarly bruised with light burns across her palms and fingers) were similarly sat in the hastily erected medical tent whilst all of the Pro’s who’d been injured (All Might included; he… he’d wanted to see him before he went, but still) were already on their way to the hospital. 

The clean-up crews were busily working away, the Nomu Kurogiri had been locked up and shipped off to Tartarus alongside All for One and another man, who’d identified himself as Twice, was being checked over, treated and assured that he was safe.

He’d seen him as he’d been wheeled past in a wheelchair, his shuddering form draped in a shock-blanket as he was ferried to a private, unmarked ambulance; Naomasa, still in their ears along with his Lieutenant, had told them all that the man was being taken to a mental-health ward to be reviewed and cared for.

With any luck, he’d be rehabilitated and given a new lease on life thanks to therapy, counselling and further help that Sir Nighteye’s Agency was already putting in to place for him.

Thank goodness…

“ _Heh… Aizawa-san? We’ll be bringing a car around for you in five minutes or so but… ugh… there are _quite_ a few people who’re demanding to speak with you, if that’s okay? We just wanted to make sure that you were fine before patching them all in and Dr Riku has just given you the all-clear, so…_”

Blinking, his brows lifting at the sudden crackling across the ear-piece he wore (no doubt connecting him to a private line), Shouta gratefully took the cup of water a paramedic offered him and waited.

He wouldn’t have put it past Dabi and Tomura to bully the local Pros (“ _ugh! We don’t need baby-sitters, Shou… we just need you back in one piece so don’t do _anything_ stupid, alright?!_”) into getting the Police Force to connect them through.

Or maybe it was Nedzu; although, if the white-furred man was calling anyone, he had a sneaking suspicion it would be Full Throttle (who was currently, avidly chatting away on her phone with Naoki stood over her shoulder, definitely talking to Ketsubutsu Academy’s Principal, her eyes moving to him every so often) that he’d contact.

He’d checked his own phone, of course, and text his teens that he was fine but would probably need to give an official statement before he got home (“ _wonderful_ ”) and asked for an update from Hitoshi’s teachers (the boy still knew nothing, thank goodness; he’d talk everything over with him and the other tots later) and found his chat-apps _crammed_ with messages. His Pros, of course (Ragdoll had been _bursting_ during the radio-silence imposed during the mission) had inundated him, a few of the café customers had asked if he was alright (since the Noraneko was closed until tomorrow) and Sir Nighteye, ever the joker, had simply written: “ _cat-dad is a wonderful moniker… Is it going to be your official Pro Hero name, now?_ 😉”

Tch, yeah, right…

Although, there _was_ a Pro Hero called “ _Wash_ ”, wasn’t there, so “ _Cat-dad_ ” didn’t sound _too_ ridiculous, but…

“ _S-Shouta-kun?_ ”

Feeling a sudden tightening in his chest, the image of this speaker struggling on his knees, his body-suit torn and righteous anger giving way to frustration and despair, the café owner swallowed thickly.

God, he…

He hadn’t been expecting…

He’d been _so_ worried that he was…

“ _A-are you alright?_ ” he asked, the sounds of people milling all around him dying away as he leaned into the plastic chair he’d been sat in, his mostly bare-legs (he’d faced off against the country’s top villain in shorts, of all things) dotted with plasters and bandages from the few scrapes he’d collected stiffening, he struggled to keep his water-cup steady. 

“ _T-thanks to you… it’s thanks to you that I am… Shouta-kun I… I had wanted to see you, but…_ ”

“ _I can come to you_ ” he heard himself saying, his cheeks lightly-pinking at how quickly the words had left him; “ _the kids aren’t expecting me back until later and…_ ”

“ _Yes, I… I’d like that… if it’s… if that’s alright with you?_ ” the big lug stated and, wouldn’t you know it? Virtually the second he’d asked, Tsuragamae Kenji had appeared at his side with a smile and a nod.

“You’ll need special-clearance to access his ward, Aizawa-san” he stated, his tone lacquered with an awe which over-lapped his usual professionalism; “it’d be my honour to escort you whilst you take your other calls…”

~*~

He’d hugged Naoki goodbye (“I can’t wait to meet the rest of our ever-growing family, Shou… take care of yourself and, ugh… yeah… I’d love some more macaroons, thanks~!”) and watched as he and Full Throttle had headed off back to Ketsubutsu Academy.

When the blue haired woman had given him _three_ business-cards all containing private numbers (o…kay?) and winked at him before she’d left, he’d not been able to hold his laughter when Mitsuki called after her: “ha~! He’s not leaving Musutafu, so good luck re-locating your second-rate school over here~!”

Heh; Nedzu would be proud, he was sure.

Then, after similarly embracing her (she was heading home to where her husband was anxiously waiting; she’d shown him a photograph of the _victory-meal_ he’d made for her: adorable), the crimson eyed woman grinned and lightly punched his shoulder; “give that power house a big-hug from me and tell him to come by the café soon, alright?”

He’d promised to relay the message and then eagerly hopped into the unmarked police-car (with tinted windows; thank God: as they drove away from the airstrip, he cringed as reporters, journalists and hero-fanatics shoved flashing cameras wherever they could reach… how _irrational_ ) and relaxed in the back seat before taking more calls.

“ _Shou?_ ”

“ _Hey_ ” he replied softly; “ _we did it, guys… Shigaraki-san is on his way to the maximum-security wing as we speak_ ” he breathed, his shoulders _finally_ relaxing: “ _you’re free now, Tomura… we just need to go over a few things with Tsuragamae-san before Hitoshi gets home, okay? And me and Dabi will be with you, alright?_ ”

He’d heard the other release a shaky, sniffled-breath and, at the rustle of fabric, he could almost see his older teen hugging the shorter.

“ _Everything’s going to be fine now… and I’m so, so proud of you and how brave you’ve been_ ” he praised; “ _I’ll see you both soon…_ ”

~*~

After he’d chatted with Hizashi (he, Nemuri and Oboro; heh, it was nice to know them all as people now, were still at the café) who’d promised him _faithfully_ that the teens were fine (“we haven’t all been, like, singing your praises or placing bets on whether you made that bastard cry or not but… you _totally_ did, right?!”) he’d sagged into his seat.

Damn, now that all of his adrenaline had worn off, everything was getting a little blurry around the edges.

 _How_ did people do crazy shit like this all day, every day for a living?

Was it pride he’d felt when he’d embraced Naoki or just sheer, thankful relief?

Did…

Did he want to think about his tots, fully grown, rushing in to this kind of danger?

Because sure, All for One was out of the way now (and he hoped that that would _always_ be the case) _but_ villainy wouldn’t stop over-night…

Who’d be the next “big-bad” the people he’d come to know and care about would face?

With Shigaraki currently deposed, the title of King amidst the criminal-underworld was now up for grabs, wasn’t it?

Shit…

“We’re nearly at the hospital, Aizawa-san… are you alright?”

“Heh… just over-thinking… it’s a habit of mine, apparently” he tried to grin, his eyes meeting Tsuragamae’s through the rear-view mirror, memories from the night of Kimiko’s arrest suddenly flashing through his mind.

_Shit…_

Not good…

“If you don’t mind me saying so, Aizawa-san… what you displayed this morning goes _far_ beyond the realms of over-thinking” he complimented with a laugh; “I mean… whereas I do not condone reckless actions even in my own ranks, I… _how_ in the world did you come up with a plan to trick him so easily?” he asked. 

“It was a logical-ruse” he replied mildly, his dark, tired eyes now looking the city-scape as it sped past them, the looming form of Musutafu’s ‘ _Hero Hospirtal_ ’ rising up in the foreground; “when _that man_ came to my café he was… particularly friendly and falsely well-meaning” he offered. “He seemed to enjoy the pies and muffins I made and well? I was hoping seeing me there would be quite a surreal experience and one just strange enough for him to pause” he admitted. “Distracting him into thinking my quirk was something he could defend against was something that I didn’t know I’d be able to do until I happened upon Bakugo-san and the others” he mused; “and besides… I knew that All Might wouldn’t let the egomaniac kill me” he grinned, their eyes meeting again.

“Where’d he get his muffins from if I was dead, hm?”

~*~

Watching the dog faced man laugh so loudly that he _actually_ barked (the noise had caused the driver he sat beside to serve slightly; heh, maybe his third career path should be in stand-up comedy) he’d _then_ had to listen to Tsuragamae-san as he told him, repeatedly, that he was worth much more to _everyone_ alive _regardless_ of baked goods.

Hell…

Maybe he should have recorded the rant (because _that’s_ what it was) and handed copies over to his teens, tots and other friends so they could just blast it at him, full volume, instead of having to repeat themselves so often.

Heh…

Such good people…

However, as the car pulled into a small, private, underground parking-lot (the media (local to national and beyond) had flooded the surface-entrance; tch, what a bunch of circling vultures), Shouta _somehow_ managed to get out of the vehicle with his hearing still intact.

“Okay, Aizawa-san… please follow me but, just so we’re clear, what do you need to remember?”

“I’m a loved and valued individual who needs to know and accept that _without_ deflecting the sentiments with humour… _sir_ ” he deadpanned despite a light pinking of his cheeks; hell…

Was _this_ how his teens had felt when he’d spoken to them about loving themselves more?

Damn…

“Good!” the beagle-quirked officer stated with a curt nod, the pair of them walking through the well-lit, stark and cement coloured area towards a set of gun-metal elevator doors; “but don’t think for one second that I’ll not be checking in with Dabi-kun and Tomura-kun to make sure that my words have gotten through to you, alright?”

‘ _Goody_ ’ he thought with a little, well-covered snicker, his mind already conjuring up a scenario where he was sat down in an interrogation room with the three of them, his tots and the Pros _all_ crowding around him whilst they made several arguments as to why he didn’t _appreciate_ himself enough.

Heh…

It _wasn’t_ as though he _didn’t_ appreciate himself but…

 _But_ , he was just a person… _incredible_ or not and, if he was honest? He’d never _liked_ attention, he’d never needed it, either.

He just wanted to see people who’d had it worse than he had doing well, being well for, sure… life in the care-centre had sucked in ways that he didn’t like to reflect on; however…

He had been loved and cherished…

He’d known what good parents were like…

He’d enjoyed a normal childhood, birthdays, treats, affection he…

He _knew_ what all of that felt like and sure, he was open to having more of it (even though he’d had so much already even when he knew of people who’d had none) _but_ he wanted to give more, too…

Heh…

But he was bad at communicating this, apparently and well? He supposed there were worse things to go through than having a wonderful community made up of many people from different backgrounds _demanding_ that he express more self-worth, wasn’t there?

~*~

Being ushered quietly through a maze of corridors (he’d been permitted to look in on Sir Nighteye; he was sleeping, thank goodness with Bubble Girl at his bedside (they’d hugged), the searing burns of All for One’s wrath healing, a new pair of glasses resting on the side-table next to his well-bandaged head), Shouta absentmindedly took his surroundings in.

The hospital was sterile, austere and lacking the tramp and ceremony he _thought_ that he’d find; the technology was top-notch and the doctors many, to be certain, however…

He thought the place would be decked out like the American TV shows Inko liked to watch and yet, as one beige wall bled into another, the officious staff swiftly and efficiently going about their business, it dawned on him _just_ how real this was.

That the Pro Hero community that many of them took for granted _wasn’t_ invincible…

That the brave men, women and everyone in between did suffer damage…

That they felt loss…

That them surviving a skirmish, no matter how small, _wasn’t_ a guarantee…

Hmm…

“He’s stable, awake and resting of course” the doctor leading them said, his four hands flipping through charts and writing notes upon a tablet; “ _but_ we’ve put him on a course of pain-killers and, Aizawa-san? If I may? We could give you something for your bruising, if you like?”

“They’re only bruises” he replied, a small smile tilting his lips; “I’d much rather you keep your resources for the people who really need them but thank you, all the same” he added, the other’s six-eyed head inclining at him demurely before they stopped at what seemed to be _just_ another door.

No banners, no balloons, no pomp.

Hmm…

“Very well then… and please, Tsuragamae-san? This needs to be a short-visit so that Yagi-san can rest” the healer ordered; “having said this… being his significant other besides, Aizawa-san… if I was wearing a hat I’d tip it at you” he stated, his words causing the raven-haired man to blink.

_Significant… other…?_

“… Shigaraki has been responsible for _many_ of the patients that myself and my colleagues have had to treat over the years” he stated, his soft frown turning into a pleased grin; “knowing that he’s received even this small modicum of justice has given us all a fine reason to celebrate, so thank you very much, for your efforts.”

Then, stupefied, he’d returned the gentle bow that the doctor gave him, blinked at the Lieutenant (who seemed a little sheepish) and sighed.

Well, if that was the cover-story they needed so that he could be sneaked in to see the man then fine…

So _why_ did he have such a strong, strange flutter in his chest?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WAH~!
> 
> Even MORE feels to come~!
> 
> ;_;


	53. Talks… Part 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Warnings include: angst, reflections on canon-typical violence, reflections on what it means to be a hero/sacrifices, swearing, worry/anxiety/relief, references to injuries/blood and...**
> 
> **FFFFFFFFEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEELLLLLLLLLLLLLLSSSSSSSSSS~!!**
> 
> I nearly called this chapter "Tristero's Hands Chapter" because... after I proof read it for the third time my brain went...
> 
> That's a lot of hand-based imagery, yo~!
> 
> XD
> 
> We've also got some attempted humour sprinkled in, too...
> 
> And a certain dickhead wanting an audience at the end...

Walking in alone (Tsuragamae was standing watch outside; apparently All Might had a security staff overseeing him, too, and they’d been asked to move aside at the Pro’s request: heh, the noble-headed idiot didn’t want him to feel uncomfortable, did he?) Shouta had expected many things…

He’d expected to see the man staving off a bundle of starry-eyed nurses…

He’d expected to see him laughing, joking or yucking it up on the phone…

He’d expected to see him posing for a photograph or two with his famous smile in place…

“That was quite the morning, wasn’t it?” 

However, there… sat in his bed, his bronzed form swaddled in a hospital-gown, All Might looked as though he’d been dragged through a hedge backwards through hell; the media smile was replaced by a softer one without his usual, Hollywood flashing of teeth, his hair was dishevelled and his left eye was swollen closed. 

What swathes of that sun-kissed skin _weren’t_ covered by material boasted charred lines that were slathered with a salve and slowly but surely healing.

God…

“Yeah…” he agreed as he walked towards him, his own lips quipped in a grin as he approached the chair set up for him to sit in; “and here I thought that my _usual_ morning rush was hectic” he chuckled before, with a blink, the older man (by about ten years or so, Sir Nighteye had let slip once) was sat up, hesitant fingers centimetres from his purpled neck.

“That bastard” he breathed; “S-Shouta-kun… you… _you’re_ …” he said, those blue eyes filled with worry…

With guilt…

“F-forgive me…” he murmured, his expression crestfallen, those digits trembling…

“This… this is _all_ my…”

“Oi” he cut in, his hands reaching up to clasp the one hesitating so close to his damaged skin; “this… _none_ of this is anyone’s fault except _his_ ” he stated, their eyes locked, his expression firm: “I meant what I wrote to you on those God-damned napkins” he furthered. “He _dared_ to hurt the people I cared about… I _chose_ to go after him… I _would_ have done anything… I would _do_ this morning all over again a thousand times more if I had to” he assured. “He came to my café… he targeted Tomura… he tried to ruin his life… he _has_ been ruining yours for years” he continued, his brows furrowing; “so what if I have a few bruises… do you honestly think I care?” he asked.

“S-Shouta…”

“What are a few bruises compared to helping you? To freeing Tomura from that asshole’s influence? To keeping the people I care about safe, huh?” he huffed, his tone incredulous; “tch… and it’s just like _you_ to be sitting there, covered in the marks that monster left on you and _worrying_ about me” he grinned. “Heh… we’re actually quite a lot alike, aren’t we, neh?” he chuckled. “Although… if I had to hazard a guess, I _might_ be slightly better in the kitchen whilst _you_ could bench-press the Noraneko without breaking a sweat… so _maybe_ our similarities stop at being a pair of reckless do-gooders, huh?”

__Feeling his shoulders relax a little when the other chuffed at his snickering, he experienced further relief when those strong digits (strong enough to tear through concrete) gave his hands a soft squeeze back._ _

__“You… you’re definitely beyond skilled in the cooking department, Shouta-kun” he admitted, that guilty-heaviness dropped from his features, those neon-eyes a little brighter… for a second; “and about you being reckless” he sighed: “I… I heard your plan… I heard Mirai, my best friend, confirm its success but… I…” he cut off softly. “I… I heard how you planned to save me… you… and you did _all_ of that, so quickly, with no hesitancy because you… you chose to use yourself as bait…” _ _

__“ _Bait_ is a little…”_ _

__“ _Shouta_.”_ _

__Feeling his mouth close, that haunted look returning to All Might’s features once more, the café owner huffed._ _

__The blonde obviously needed to say his peace and who was he to stop him?_ _

__“W-what you did I… I am grateful beyond words, but…” he tried, those eyes closing, a tremor running through him; “you… you could have been _killed_ … you were nearly, I… why… _how_ could…”_ _

__“I did it because I knew that you’d save me.”_ _

__Blinking, his cheeks heating a little at the admission that poured out of him like water, like a confession he’d not realised that he needed to make, the erasure quirk user knew that he’d meant every word of it, their eyes still locked._ _

__“There’s no recklessness involved when the end result is a given, right? So, I made a rational choice and played a logical ruse” he explained, his tone gentle but filled with conviction before he smiled once more; “and besides… a small, ruthless little part of me wanted to dish out some damage” he offered, a sweat-drop or two peppering his temple._ _

__“E-Eh?”_ _

__“Yeah… this whole Pro-Hero thing” the raven-haired man smirked; “I’m _pretty_ sure I’m not cut out for it” he snickered: “I bet you guys have a big rule-book, or something, that forbids crotch-shots, swearing and feeling an _enormous_ sense of self-satisfaction when your foe’s at a critical disadvantage, right?”_ _

__Allowing his smile to broaden when All Might _couldn’t_ hide his laugh (see? He could deflect other things (like people feeling worried, guilty or sad) with humour, right? That wouldn’t upset Tsuragamae-san, surely?), Shouta hummed thoughtfully. “That, and I’d have to run around in a mask of your handsome-mug so that people would think I was smiling” he mused; “and as for weapons, well? I guess I could bake some short-bread shuriken…”_ _

__“ _S-Shouta-kun… ahahahaaa~! That… oh… m-my ribs~!_ ”_ _

__“… or hide little bombs in cup-cakes and throw them…”_ _

__“ _Ahahaa~! N-no… no please… have mercy… I **can’t** …_”_ _

__“… and what could I name myself besides cat-dad, hmm? ‘ _The Caked Crusader_ ’? ‘ _The Muffin Mauler_ ’? ‘ _The Confectioner?_ ’” he snickered; “I’m certain ‘Muffin-Man’ has already been trade-marked and besides? Can you imagine _me_ in a skin-tight body suit like the one you wear I… ugh, oh-hey, are you alright?” he asked, his tone a little alarmed._ _

__The man had gone _bright_ red from his flushed chest right up to his ears, the laughter that’d been bubbling from his mouth now stuttered and stumbling from his mouth as those blue, blue eyes looked from him, to their joined hands and back again._ _

__“I… ugh, forgive me” he breathed, the hand he’d trapped squeezing his once more; “I… I hope I’m not over-stepping when I say this, Shouta but… I hope you know… I hope you understand that I… I’m in awe of you, truly” he murmured. “And as much as I value our friendship, your wit and advice I… I must confess that I am _very much_ looking forward to taking you out on the Sunday evening we’ve agreed upon” he said, a large, warm-thumb rubbing over his smaller, paler fingers._ _

__Blinking, that weird (but not unwelcome) feeling fluttering around his chest again, the café owner huffed softly; “all the more reason for you to rest up and get better, hmm?” he murmured fondly, his tone indulgent: “I… I’m really looking forward to it too, you know?”_ _

__~*~_ _

__He’d left the man after a few more quiet words (the other’s eyes had been dropping (a mixture of exhaustion and pain killers, he’d be willing to bet) the entire time; poor guy) and, in a move that was _completely_ out of character for him (he blamed all the PDA he’d seen Dabi lavish on Tomura; so cute), he’d kissed the other’s temple and ruffled his hair._ _

__The sigh that left the other as he _finally_ gave in to sleep had been… _adorable_._ _

__Then, the beagle-headed Lieutenant waiting for him, he was weaving his way out of the highly-secure facility, his eyes checking the time on his phone._ _

___How_ was it only 11:30?_ _

_God…_

__It felt like their life-or-death battle had happened a year ago…_ _

___Seconds_ ago…_ _

__Shit…_ _

__What even _was_ today?_ _

__“After I’ve dropped you off at home, Aizawa-san, would it be alright for me to return at 14:00 to conduct a witness statement and informal interview with Tomura?”_ _

__“Yeah, yes that’s fine… he said so yesterday and, well? Now Shigaraki is behind bars… I’m sure he’ll better about talking to you, especially with me and Dabi there” he replied as they returned to the elevator; “Oh… and Sir Nighteye has just text me to say that he’d like to attend as well… is that… _wise_?” he asked, his brows reaching for his hairline. “Surely he needs to stay here for observation?” he queried because he’d been _unconscious_ not that long ago; he couldn’t help the soft smile tugging his lips when Bubble Girl sent him an image of the man with his thumb-up whilst she posed with a traditional peace-sign._ _

__How in the world?_ _

__Sure, the man was a notorious kidder (“ _he’s a troll_ ” Centipeder had once whispered to him; “ _he has a machine he straps us to which tickles us if he thinks we’re not having a good day and the memes… my God Shouta, the **memes**_ ” he’d bemoaned whilst showing him his phone: he’d not been lying) _but_ …_ _

__“Ah… we have a Pro Hero who specialises in healing… she’s doing the rounds” Tsuragamae replied, his expression caught between sheepish, relieved and annoyed; “I, too, would prefer for everyone to stay here and rest if nothing else” he admitted, his gaze narrowing on him. “However, here I am, _very_ hypocritically getting ready to drive you away with _no_ medical assistance whatsoever to a place where you’ll no doubt be working” he chuffed; “you will, I hope, _at least_ take up our offer of counselling? If not for yourself, then for your second oldest ward and the boys in your care, too, hmm?”_ _

__Folding his arms, Shouta leaned against the gun-metal wall of the elevator, the little box they were travelling in nearly reaching its required destination, his lips pursed; “I… I would really appreciate that for them, Tomura in particular” he said with a nod, his brows furrowing. “I’m not sure how I’ll sell it to him but I’ll try my best” he acknowledged; “he… I know he will have been through a lot at the hands of that man… things he might never tell me or his partner” he sighed, his lips dipping in a frown. “Tch… I know I probably shouldn’t be saying this to a police officer but… I would have been happier if Shigaraki was on his way to the morgue right now…” he admitted gruffly._ _

__“Heh… off the record?” the older man grunted, his own arms folding; “ _same_.”_ _

__~*~_ _

__Arriving home had _never_ felt _so_ good…_ _

__“Shou~!!”_ _

__Laughing as Nemuri and Tomoko rushed him as he exited the police-cruiser, the eatery owner returned the hug they’d wrapped him in before moving to do the same with Hizashi (“dude~! We hacked the Ibiris hangar’s video to make sure no one else could access it~! You were badass~!”) and Oboro (“you were _so_ fucking cool, man~!”)._ _

__“Thanks for holding the fort, guys” he said, his smile bright; “you’re all coming by tomorrow for dinner, right?”_ _

__“Tch~! Like we’d miss it~!” the R-Rated hero huffed; “delicious food aside, we want _all_ of the details~!” she demanded before planting a loud kiss on his cheek, grabbing a Cheshire-cat smiling Ragdoll by the hand and pulling her to where a taxi was pulling up._ _

__Chuckling, his hand lifted in a wave as the four people (his four friends, friends who’d been protecting his home and kids, friends who he wouldn’t trade for anyone or anything; heh, he was pretty, fucking lucky, wasn’t he?) scrambled into the car (back off to their Agency to get changed and get back out on the streets) and madly waved back at him as it pulled away._ _

__Then, after releasing a breath, he walked towards the Noraneko (his dark eyes taking in the paw-prints on the window-frames, the name he’d hand painted across the windows, the candy-striped awning and the few tables with parasols) before pushing open the door and walking inside._ _

__“Hey— ooofffff~!”_ _

__Humming in the back of his throat, Shouta wrapped his arms just as tightly around Tomura, the teen’s face buried in his neck whilst trembling arms clutched at him desperately._ _

__Gently rubbing that tremoring back, he then looked to Dabi who was stood at his left side; his oldest boy clearly wanting to give his partner the room he needed, his handsome face awash with a range of emotions from relief to happiness before those turquoise eyes narrowed, a flicker of flame ghosting around his hair._ _

___Fuck_._ _

__He’d meant to find something to wrap about his neck before he got home…_ _

__“Shou?” the dark-haired young man said, his volume quiet and tone lacquered with a protective heat._ _

__“It’s fine” he promised; “ _I’m_ fine” he furthered: “I’ve got a full bill of health and everything” he promised as Tomura pulled away, the long sleeves of his light-weight hoody swiping at his eyes before he blinked, those crimson ringed-pupils _also_ looking to his neck._ _

__“Did… did _he_ …”_ _

___**Fuck~!** _ _ _

__“Come on” he urged; “let’s go upstairs so I can get changed and then we’ll go fuss over the cats and talk, alright?” he offered, his head inclining politely at Sansa (who bowed back, his hands rapidly tapping away on a laptop) and Centipeder, the pair having asked to stay on, just in case._ _

__He and Tsuragamae-san (“please, call me Kenji… I believe you and I have been through enough that such formality isn’t warranted off the record, neh, Shouta?”) had talked a little on the drive here._ _

__Garaki was still at large and, although there was _no_ evidence to suggest that the man (wily, ancient, _intelligent_ ) was a threat by himself, the Pro Hero Association who’d found, raided and dismantled a secret bunker beneath Jaku Hospital had discovered some… _worrying things_._ _

__The beagle-headed man hadn’t elaborated…_ _

__And he hadn’t asked him to…_ _

__**Fuck** …_ _

__“Tch… _fine_ ” Dabi huffed, his body walking through the privacy gate, past the service bar and into the kitchen, his arm holding the door open for him and Tomura as they walked through, together; “but I’m getting you an ice-pack and you, you crazy not so old guy, are going to let me help you do the food-prep for tomorrow” he stated bluntly. “Because _God_ forbid that you do something _really_ crazy like take a day off to rest…”_ _

__“We can totally do that, if you want to” he cut in, his hand reaching for him; “I… I’d thought that keeping to our normal routine might be better, but…”_ _

__“It… it is” the decay quirk user said; “we… we’re just… we want to make sure that you’re okay because, well… that’s all you ever seem to do for us, Shou… me in particular” he murmured guiltily, a gloved finger tentatively reaching for and touching his neck, his shoulders relaxing when he didn’t move or flinch away._ _

__“You guys look after me plenty” he returned warmly, his right hand happily accepting the tea-cloth filled with ice that the flame-quirked boy gave him, that protective anger which’d ignited his hair fizzling as he watched them, his own frame relaxing a little._ _

__Shit…_ _

__They’d all been running off of fear, worry and adrenaline for the past few days, hadn’t they?_ _

__“I’m sorry that you’ve been forced to stay behind and view everything from the side-lines” he admitted gently; “but I… I’m so glad, Tomura you have _no idea_ how glad I am that you let me help you… knowing that you were both here” he murmured, his hands reaching for theirs. “ _Knowing_ that I’d be able to do something to keep you safe, to make your lives better I… you gave me such courage and strength out there” he admitted, the teen’s baulking at him, their eyes shining._ _

__“Tch… you… you big sap” Dabi tried to challenge whilst swiping at his face; “is… is it true? Mic said that you… that you gave him the _cat-dad-special_?” he tried to laugh, all of them sniggering._ _

__“Cat-dad-special, huh?” he chuckled; “yeah… yeah I did” he snickered._ _

__“The look on his face when my leg connected was… _spectacular_ …”_ _

__~*~_ _

__After a quick shower, an early lunch (shared with side-kick and police officer), the three of them entered the cat-enclosure (blissfully cool, their feline family members delighted at their presence), made their way to the back wall and slumped against the deliciously cold brick with relieved sighs._ _

__They’d talked, extensively about what he and the Pros had done…_ _

__He told Tomura that Twice had been rescued; he’d been relieved…_ _

__He told them how Kurogiri’s body may have been damaged beyond repair; they wouldn’t lose any sleep over it…_ _

__He’d celebrated Mitsuki; they’d whole-heartedly agreed that the woman deserved a Devil’s Food Cake on the house…_ _

__He’d shown them pictures of Naoki and explained about his quirk (“wow… you weren’t kidding about his skin and mine having so much in common, huh… I… I’m really looking forward to meeting him, you know?”), his hero name and passed on the older teen’s sentiments and goodwill…_ _

__He was wearing a bandana (one of Dabi’s; “ _heh… you inspired me to buy it anyway… it looks good on you, Shou… keep it, okay?_ ” the deep-purple fabric dotted with white-cats) and dressed in his pyjama pants (they were black jogging-pants so it was entirely appropriate) and a similarly black tank-top…_ _

__He’d felt better after his quick shower…_ _

__There’d been quite a bit of red mixed in with the dust he’d swilled away…_ _

__He’d not realised that some of his cuts had been pretty long and deep, he’d not felt them at all, really…_ _

__He knew that some of the blood was that of his friends, their bodies having hugged, his arms having carried Full Throttle when he’d found her in the debris after Shigaraki’s explosive quirk had blown the top off of the storm-drain they’d been hiding in, hmm…_ _

__He’d not said as much to the teens; they were worried enough as it was, even with this outcome…_ _

__And so they’d sat together with Jiji coiled protectively in Tomura’s lap, Homura and Hahaue were snuggled between him and Dabi whilst Hime, of all cats (no doubt attracted by his warmth) had stretched down Dabi’s long, loose-linen trouser covered legs, her fluffy tail swaying contentedly as the scarred male gently scratched at her head…_ _

__“So… are you going to give in to Nedzu and become a Pro hero after all?”_ _

__Blinking, his dark eyes moving to the turquoise of his oldest ward, Shouta chuffed and shook his head; “I might consider having a token license one day, you know? When our study group is older” he admitted: “if they’re all going to rush off and seek that career then I want to be able to watch over them and advise them” he said. “But… in the first instance… no” he murmured, his own fingers carefully grooming Hahaue whilst her kittens and the other juveniles continued to frolic and play all around them…_ _

__They were all wearing a form of laced, boot-sneakers…_ _

__Bakusatsugo, Red Riot, Kero and Raijin were _all_ in some kind of unspoken contest as to whom could unlace, tug and free the white-strands out of their shoes the fastest…_ _

__Heh…_ _

__So cute…_ _

__“And besides, between the café, our family and our friends… I’d say that my life is pretty full, wouldn’t you?” he smiled, his hands reaching for theirs again._ _

__“And I wouldn’t have it any other way, alright?”_ _

__~*~_ _

__Sat in his dark-cell, his body (collared, belted into straight-jackets, strapped to a wheeled-chair) bound but no longer in pain (heh; human rights: who’d ever thought that he’d be _happy_ about such things?), Shigaraki stared impassively at the two-way glass where _one_ of the dog’s ( _literal_ this time) responsible for his capture stood, he hummed._ _

__“And why should I answer any of your questions?” he asked; “what leniency would you give me, hmm? What _quarter_?” he hedged, his shoulders shrugging as much as they were allowed under the thick, quirk restricting fabric he was entombed in._ _

__“None, of course” the Lieutenant replied; “you being here is enough… for now” he stated: “however… we _both_ know that your physical presence in Tartarus only means so much” he offered._ _

__Oh?_ _

_Oh?!_

__Ahh… so they _were_ still afraid of him…_ _

__They _weren’t_ underestimating him…_ _

__Heh…_ _

___Good!_ _ _

__“Hmm… yes, you are correct, of course” he taunted; “and just how long do you think you can keep me here, neh?” he asked: “or, perhaps the better question is” he paused, his smile sincere. “ _Why_ do you think I’m allowing my imprisonment, hmm?”_ _

__“You’ll not get anywhere talking in riddles, Shigaraki-san, you…”_ _

__“Would you _like_ me to talk to you properly, _candidly_ , dog-san?” he chuckled, his cerulean eyes sparking with glee when the other officers in the room sneered at him and what he’d said._ _

__Oh?_ _

__But wasn’t that title… appropriate?_ _

__“You…”_ _

__“I’m not much for… _your_ sort” he admitted freely; “no offense” he grinned: “however… I’ve found myself to be more of a… _cat_ person as of late” he purred, a thrill running up his spine when he saw those dark-eyes narrow at him._ _

___Ha~!_ _ _

‘ _Yes… oh, why am I **not** surprised that our dear Aizawa-kun is known to you, hmm? What a… _popular_ young man he is… how very… _useful_ ~! Useful indeed~!_’ 

__“This interview is over… take him away…”_ _

__“Ahh~! One moment more of your time, if you please, _Dog_ -san” he called as the doors to the maximum-security holding-cell he’d been wheeled into opened to allow six heavily armed, riot-gear wearing people to enter ( _good heavens~! What **fun~!**_ ); “you’re interested in the information that I have, yes?”_ _

__“Get him back to his…”_ _

__“Bring me Aizawa Shouta for a visit or two… yes, have him craft one of those darling, little pies for me” he added, his greedy eyes turning to the CCTV camera’s zooming in on him (the Police Commissioner, Head of the Hero Commission and whomever else might be eavesdropping no doubt all asking who Aizawa was; _wonderful~!_ )._ _

__“Do this for me, _Dog_ -san, and I’ll _happily_ talk to him for as long as you please~!”_ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> DON'T panic~!
> 
> As far as I'm concerned... Shigaraki is on the backburner now... Major Plot Point 3 and 4 will look at other villain's who need to be decked by the "Caked Crusader~!"
> 
> XD
> 
> I know it's corny as hell but I was SO PROUD of myself when I came up with that~!
> 
> Pppppfffftttttt...
> 
> God...
> 
> I need more sleep...
> 
> ^_^;;


	54. Talks… Part 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Warnings include: distress, anxiety, worry, confronting difficult feelings and situations, internal conflict, tears (LIKE SO MANY), swearing and...**
> 
> **FFFFFFFFFFEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEELLLLLLLLLLLSSSSSSS~!!**
> 
> Umm...
> 
> Tissues? Yeah... you might need tissues for this one, BUT
> 
> HOPEFUL ending guys, HOPEFUL finish for the WIN~!

When 14:00 rolled around, they’d decided to conduct the witness statement and informal interview in the café proper; Centipeder had left, Naomasa had arrived and, iced-coffee and cream-puffs shared out, he’d led the people taking part to the study-area the tots and middle-schoolers used.

Tomura was sat on one side with him and Dabi either side of him with Tsuragamae Kenji, Sir Nighteye (who was there to collect any other information he and his Agency could use to foil Garaki and any other pawns Shigaraki might have in play) and his dark-haired self-defence student.

He'd placed a comforting hand on the decay quirk user’s shoulder and had allowed Jiji out of the enclosure.

The old cat was sat in the teen’s lap, his small, imperious face gazing dispassionately at the visiting men whilst Dabi leaned towards his partner, his arms crossed and expression resolved.

“Tomura-kun” the Lieutenant began, a fancy audio-recorder come lie-detector (such things were standard; he’d checked beforehand and, after talking to his second youngest ward about it, he’d shrugged and said that he had nothing to hide… that he knew his found-family were there for him and would protect him; God… this kid) resting between them. “Thank you for agreeing to talk with us today… especially given the events of this morning” he offered; “as a Police Force Officer I must advise you that you’re not under caution and that you’re free to remove yourself from this interview at any time” he said. “However, I must also advise you that anything you do say here is being recorded and we may approach you again for further details if we feel that is warranted, alright?”

Nodding, his skin cracking a little (he and Dabi had helped to soothe his neck, the area where stress tended to affect him the most, with balm before the cops arrived), Shouta gave the shoulder he grasped a gentle squeeze.

“Okay… I would like to start with how you came to know the man known as Shigaraki, A.K.A All for One” the oldest of their assembled group began; “and please, take your time…”

God…

Rehearing the events his youngest teen had told him (through his fear, tears and heart-ache) only a few days ago (it felt like forever ago… it felt like _minutes_ ago) had been a sobering experience…

The Lieutenant had let him talk…

Naomasa was full of sympathy…

Sir Nighteye, however, had become progressively less neutral…

In fact, when he’d sneaked glances at him, he’d watched as the former sidekick (a true hero in his own right) had gone from worried, to angry, to concerned, to shocked…

“If I may” he cut in, his golden eyes softening when Tomura (who’d stiffened; Dabi had shifted in his seat: both were wary… hmm) looked to him, he adjusted his glasses and leaned a little closer to the desk; “do you know what Shigaraki’s quirk allows him to do?”

“He… I’m not sure what it’s called” the youth responded; “but I know that it allows him to take people’s powers” he said: “well… I’m not sure if that applies to mutations but emitter types are something he can steal with just a touch I… I’ve seen him do it… he, he can dish them out, too… when he wants” he furthered after a swallow.

“Yes, that’s right” the green-haired man nodded; “Tomura… I… based on what you’ve told us this far, I believe that it was Shigaraki who gave you the quirk you have now” he stated, his words causing the teen to blink, Dabi to huff and him to grit his teeth.

That’s what he’d been thinking…

But…

“Why?” he heard himself say, the group turning to him, his brows furrowing; “please… don’t get me wrong” he murmured, his gaze meeting the shortest boy’s: “we love you regardless of whether this power is yours or not and you have come a long way in terms of accepting it, controlling it and forgiving yourself” he praised, those crimson eyes misting. “And we will always love you” he continued before turning back to the tallest member of their group; “w-what… what would drive him to target a child, let alone a quirkless one?” he asked, Izuku’s innocent face flashing through his mind.

God…

If that mother-fucker had wanted to…

He could have…

He’d _let_ that bastard _near_ Inko’s precious son, he…

_Fuck~!_

How he longed to kick that crusty, old fiend once more…

 _Harder_ this time regardless of whether the Pro’s assumptions were right or not…

“That… is where I’m drawing a blank myself” Sir Nighteye admitted, his tone saddened; “as cruel, unusual and deranged as All for One is we… well, as far as we’re aware, he’s only ever recruited adults or… created the _servants_ he wants” he sighed, his shoulders deflating slightly. “If it’s not too personal to ask, Tomura-kun… what is your family name?”

“I…”

“I’m not meaning to pry” he stated, those golden eyes meeting his (he’d been assured that anything more personal wouldn’t be questioned; however, if the youngest teenager didn’t mind revealing such a thing, then…); “it’s just… well? He’s as old as he is petty” he acknowledged. “You may have been targeted for a reason” he added quietly; “and as much as I’d like to think that wasn’t the case… I believe it is a train of thought worth pursuing if you’re comfortable?”

Feeling the other tense beneath his hand, he was about to tell him that it was alright…

That he didn’t have to share anything he didn’t want to, he…

“M-my… my real name is… _was_ Shimura Tenko” the boy said, his mouth opening again when, to everyone’s surprise, Sir Nighteye was standing, a hand clutching over his heart, his immaculate hair dishevelled.

“ _S-Shimura_?” he breathed, his head shaking lightly; “I… sorry, sorry please excuse me for a moment” he stated hurriedly, a lean hand reaching for him phone as he strode towards the café’s main entrance and exited.

Leaving the rest of them sat there, bewilderedly whilst Sansa, who’d been dutifully sat in Dabi’s preferred booth, blinked up from his laptop with a “ _nya?_ ”

“Umm…” 

Looking to Tsuragamae (who seemed just as bewildered as the rest of them) they then watched whilst the Pro hastily walked to his car and threw himself inside, the phone pressed desperately to his ear as he spoke.

“Well… I, while I’m not _quite_ sure what this could mean, everyone” he managed (heh; it wouldn’t do for all of them to start freaking out over the usually stoic hero’s behaviour, would it?); “perhaps… we should take a short break?” 

~*~ 

To see All Might (virtually healed; but _how_?), his body speedily walking across the side-walk _disguised_ in a baseball-cap, sunglasses and light-weight trench coat was… _surreal_.

***Ding-ding***

However, considering they’d all faced off against the Number 1 Villain only a few hours ago, he supposed that _surrealness_ was relative, wasn’t it?

Stranger still, it’d only taken him ten minutes to arrive, his former side-kick a beat behind him, the pair of them looking around (no doubt checking for the media; word had gotten out about a ‘ _Sensational-Smash-Up between Our Legendary Number 1 and Unknown Forces of Evil_ ’ ( _fucking really?_ ) and was _all_ over the TV) before Sir Nighteye locked the door behind him.

Watching them (they looked fraught, tense, _anxious_ ; not good) a quiet, worried voice in the back of his mind started to mutter about what he’d do if they wanted to try and take Tomura away… for some reason?

He wouldn’t allow it, of course…

Regardless of their friendship, the teen had been through enough, hadn’t he?

Shit…

And now, his body standing between the service-bar’s (currently empty) display case and the second booth (his eyes narrowed to the point where even Sansa (who’d been busily working away once more) had noticed) to stop them in their tracks, he felt the tension in his shoulders double.

He was glad that he’d decided to intercept them, though…

He could feel his teens’ distress from here…

He didn’t like this _one bit_ …

“Shouta-kun, please forgive my intrusion” the bronzed man greeted with a bow, the reddened lines about his own neck and face virtually gone (it was miraculous, really), those blue eyes meeting his briefly before moving to his wards, both still sat, quietly talking, fussing over Jiji and watching their exchange.

The two Police Force officers with them _also_ seemed bemused…

 _Shit_ …

“You’re not intruding but… but _all_ of _this_ ” he said with a motion at his _incognito_ outfit; “is… is freaking me out, I mean… why are you here? I thought you’d be resting and lying low to avoid the media vultures gunning for you” he continued quickly, his heart in his throat; “Tomura…”

“Is… is m-my… my _n-nephew_ … in a way…”

Blinking (because that was _not_ what he’d expected the other to whisper, his tone pensive regardless of the guilt and hope warring across his face, Sir Nighteye seeming similarly distressed), the café owner could have collapsed, on the spot, in relief.

 _God_ …

But…

“Wait…” he heard himself say, his brows reaching for his hairline; “ _what_?”

“Would… would we be able to speak to him privately?” the leaner of the heroes asked, those eyes sharp, his regal face also stricken; however, a flicker of hurt coursing them him (illogical) he found his posture straightening.

It wasn’t that he _didn’t_ want them to talk to the boy for any kind of nosey, self-interested reason, not at all.

He’d promised Tomura that he’d be with him, that he and Dabi would be at his side no matter what and yet, from the distress, uncertainty, regret and… _remorse_ he could see weighing All Might’s massive shoulders down, those sunglasses pulled away to reveal eyes swirling with quiet pain, he…

Damn it all…

How could his heart want to hug the big lug in one instance to comfort him and want to push him out the café in the other, his desire to protect his youngest lodger fighting, tooth and nail, against his instincts that told him to trust the blonde…

To _help him_ …

Fuck!

“Well… that depends” he returned, his voice quiet but tone resolute, his eyes shifting to Sansa who also blinked at him standing his ground, his fur standing on end before he looked away with a swallow, fingers quietly yet rapidly tapping away.

Hmm…

So… this _wasn’t_ something to do with the Police Force, then?

“Shouta, please…”

“If Tomura _wants_ to talk with you, then you can” he furthered, his arms folded, the glinting obsidian of his eyes locked with neon-blue once more, his expression firming; “if he doesn’t… I expect you to respect and accept that” he stated, his tone brokering no argument. “Can you promise me that?” he asked, his demeanour softening despite himself; God… he felt like he was kicking a puppy but...

But he needed to stand his ground…

He needed to make sure he wasn’t misplacing his trust…

Because, regardless of his own feelings for the man looming over him he…

He had the trust he’d built up between himself and the young men he couldn’t love anymore if they _were_ related by blood…

Not that that mattered…

“A-ah, of course, Shouta-kun you… you have my word and… if you would? I would like you to be a part of…”

“ _Yagi_ ” the other hero breathed, his tone peppered with warning as he leaned forward, those cautious eyes narrowing at the cat-quirked officer before quickly assessing the windows (there were a few MU students milling around with Centipeder and Bubble Girl redirecting them and, thankfully, no one else), his frown darkening; “you…”

“Has he not given us his trust, Mirai?” the blonde asked his friend, the eerie quiet of the café (which should be bustling with regulars; his tots would be with them in just over an hour, too; he’d wanted to talk to all of them, quietly, about this mornings’… events just in case the media _did_ come knocking) broadening out between them.

Sensing the building tension, Sansa continued to stare, avidly, at his screen whilst his eyebrows ventured on their quest to join his hairline.

God…

He’s _never_ been a fan of riddles or secrets and, if the shaky breath _Mirai_ had released was anything to go by then _this_ , whatever this was, was going to be a dozy, wasn’t it?

 _Fuck_ …

“I… you’re right, of course” the other eventually conceded whilst giving him, of all things, a bow; “forgive me, Shouta” he said: “it… it is not my intention to discredit you or question your honour” he promised. “I… when you reach the level of security needed to protect someone like All Might… keeping a tight grip on information, knowing who has access to such critical things is…” he sighed. 

Humming in the back of his throat (whatever the pair were talking about, it sounded… serious; much more serious than he’d been originally considering: this… didn’t seem like it was anything to do with _the accident_ his youngest teen had lived through), Shouta nodded and then guided them down to the study area.

At their approach, Tsuragamae stood with his protégé, they both bowed, grabbed up their equipment and made to walk away.

“Thank you for your time, all of you” the Lieutenant told him and his wards as he walked past Dabi (suspicious), Tomura (concerned) to re-take his seat; “have a pleasant afternoon and we’ll be in touch should we have any further enquiries” he finished with a bow that was mimicked by Naomasa.

Returning the gesture, he then watched as they approached tabby-headed officer and, after a few, quick words, the cat-quirked man was whisking up his technology and swiftly heading out with them.

Sir Nighteye had, strangely, followed law-enforcers to the door, apologised to them (or something; he and his teens had been exchanging glances and looks which switched from wary, confused, concerned and everything in between whilst All Might had just… stood there, quietly, his eyes suddenly finding the gaming area _very_ interesting) and locked the café’s door when they’d left.

Hmm…

“Okay” he stated, his tone and face _very_ much nonplussed; “what’s going on?” he asked, his hackles pricked a little.

Shit…

They’d just dismissed the police as though _their_ authority was beyond question.

Hell…

For all he knew?

It probably was…

It was a little worrying, wasn’t it, that the Hero Society could overrule the police?

Tch…

This explained, however, why so many of the Pros, the top-ten in particular, were so cocky and wandered around like Gods amongst men.

He (and maybe, upon reflection, this had been stupid of him) hadn’t thought that All Might and Sir Nighteye were like that.

He hoped that they weren’t, but…

He’d had his eyes opened today about a lot of things; the scales of power in this world (with quirks at the heart of it), the ruthless depths of evil that could exist, what went on behind the smiles and flashing cameras he’d always abhorred, he…

The way that the blonde (usually so animated in one way or another) was just _standing there_ , it…

It was putting him on edge…

“Gentleman” the future-seer said quietly; “this… _meeting_ is quite unprecedented for many, _many_ reasons” he sighed, his brown, leather briefcase moving to rest upon the table, his deft fingers opening it with a loud, cracking-snap of dual-locks. “And… although I cannot force the issue I… I was hoping that you’d sign these gag-orders…”

“W-what?”

“Huh?”

“Tch…”

“Mirai that… that won’t be necessary” All Might said and hell? Why were the pair name-dropping all of a sudden?

Wasn’t that dangerous?

Sure, the Police Force had scoured their home, removed all of the bugs (Sansa had shown the teens everything his computer programs had targeted and destroyed; he’d been given a video to watch that he’d not gotten around to viewing yet) Shigaraki had somehow tapped around the area, but…

 _But_ they’d only known each other for two, going on for three months…

Shouldn’t they…

“Fine” the slenderer hero chuffed, his body pouring into the seat which Naomasa had rested in, a long, drawn out sigh leaving him as he crossed his arms, a flash of light crossing his glasses; “but _I’m_ not covering for you when Gran Torino gets wind of this…”

_What?_

“I… I understand” the blonde managed to get out and, when he turned to face them, his iconic smile had been replaced by an all too real expression of sadness, worry…

“Tomura-kun…”

 _Grief_ …

Shit.

~*~

By 15:00, Shouta was _just_ about ready to drag all of them upstairs, put them to bed and claim that this, that _everything_ they’d gone through today, was just some trippy, terrible fever-dream brought on by a faulty ingredient he’d somehow whipped into their food…

“… her name was Nana and she… she was the mother I never had…”

Because this, _this_ was insanity, _madness_ and, worst of all?

“… trained daily, she taught me how to smile and made me the man I am today…”

He could believe it, he could believe _all_ of it…

“… married to a wonderful, caring man who loved and accepted her, they were… from what she told me… very happy together…”

And, as he sat in the still, cool, quiet atmosphere of the home he’d built for himself and his found family, he hugged Tomura close, the arm he’d looped around those fragile shoulders allowing a hand to reach Dabi’s shoulder as the three of them listened to the tale pouring out of _Yagi Toshinori_ (dear God; he trusted them that much?) like a flood…

“… but, learning of this… Shigaraki struck, he… he _killed_ Nana’s husband but spared her son… her son who she placed into foster care for his safety and protection… her son who I never met… who was ten years older than me, who I’d promised _never_ to seek out for his continued protection… a son who they’d named Kotaro…”

Feeling the decay-quirk user jolt against him, Jiji chuffing at his distress, the old cat _m’wow_ -ing in question, Shouta released a breath he hadn’t realised he’d been holding whilst Dabi muttered something under his breath.

“T-that boy grew up to be your father, did he not, Tenko-kun?”

“Don’t call me that” the teenager wheezed, his eyes screwing shut; “I… he… he was _so_ cruel to me… he… he hated heroes… he hated _you_ ” he breathed, his teeth gritting: “s-she… she chose _you_ over him I… I _never_ understood him saying that when he was d-drunk but… but now” he managed before swiping at his eyes.

“I… there are no words, Tomura… no, there are not enough words in _this world_ for me to express j-just how… how _truly_ , deep-ly sorry I am” the blonde stumbled, his eye glittering with tears.

He shrugged _Mirai’s_ hand away when the other tried to console him.

_Fuck!_

‘ _All for One_ ’ he thought; ‘ _you… you hideous, _terrible_ monster_’ his mind added, his own eyes closing when the sixteen-year-old sobbed into his shoulder and Dabi, his body becoming progressively more tense with protective fury, rubbed at his back, a flicker of blue flame haloing his hair.

Shit…

He needed to defuse the situation, he…

“I… I understand if… you hate me, too, Tomura.”

 _Shit_!

Reopening his eyes, the look of heartbreak upon the Number 1 Pro’s face tearing at him in ways he couldn’t express, he opened his mouth to say something, anything when…

“Hate you?”

_**Shit…** _

Then, his body moving to help the youngest of their gathering to sit up properly, his (admittedly shaking; shit) hands reaching for some of the napkins he _always_ had on him to offer around, Shouta sent a silent prayer up to any, benevolent deity who might be listening.

There had to be a way to heal these people, all of them precious to him, he…

“I… heh, if Shou has taught me anything it… it’s that the past d-doesn’t matter” he murmured, those softly spoken words like a punch to his gut, the sense of pride he felt in the young man who’d been to hell and back again spiking; “you… you didn’t kill my grandfather… you didn’t abandon my father, you… what’s happened to me has happened” he sighed. “H-how… how can I hate you when… when you stopped _him_ , when you saved Shou… when you listened to us and took us seriously” he continued with a sniff; “heh… when you look even more fucking upset than I feel, huh, Mr Smiles Alla Time?” he tried to chuckle.

Toshinori, however, looked flabbergasted…

Mirai, similarly, was wiping at his own eyes whilst Dabi _finally_ deflated with a shaky-exhale.

Heh, knowing his lodger the way he did, he was sure he was gearing up to fight the men in front of them and, regardless of their combined strength, Shouta knew who he’d have placed money on.

The flame quirk user felt truly and loved deeply (because he was just that amazing); in the face of him defending his partner, they wouldn’t have stood a chance.

God…

God he was _so_ glad that it hadn’t come to that…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ugh...
> 
> There are going to be SO MANY HUGS next chapter~!
> 
> ;_;
> 
> XD


	55. What it takes to be a hero…

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Warnings include: tears, relief, upset, worry/anxiety, swearing, Endeavour (hooo boy~! Do I gots plans for you, pal~!) and...**
> 
> **FFFFFFFFFEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEELLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLSSSSSSSSSSS~!!**
> 
> Wah~!
> 
> More tissues?
> 
> Yeah, yeah probably BUT this hits nicer, folks~!
> 
> Good-vibes, lots of hugs~!
> 
> Hooray~!

As Thursday afternoons went, this had to be the most God-damned emotional one he’d _ever_ experienced and, given his current life?

That was probably saying something…

“Oh~! Oh, you… I~! I could _never_ have hoped-d for more… Tomura-kun…”

Watching as the decay-quirk user was wrapped up in those impossible-arms, his face flushed with embarrassment, bewilderment and (not that the teen would admit it, he was sure) _fondness_ , Shouta had stood with Dabi under his arm whilst Jiji ( _clearly_ jealous) grumbled in the scarred teen’s gentle hold, the pair of them _finally_ relaxing…

Fuck…

He didn’t drink (and he never would; if his own experience living under Itsu-san’s abusive _care_ hadn’t swayed him from such things then the tales his youngest lodger had told him about his father had _definitely_ reaffirmed his conviction) _but_ … he could do with something to settle his nerves…

Caffeine, the rational part of his mind reasoned, was _not_ the answer, either…

 _But_ …

“T-thank you… truly I… I would like to be a part of your l-life if… if you’ll let me and… and in any capacity, I… I won’t push anything, you have my word…”

Tch.

He didn’t believe that for one minute; _Uncle All Might_ had a certain ring to it, too, didn’t it?

Heh.

So, fucking, cute…

“O-oh… ugh… sure, I guess?” Tomura floundered a little awkwardly; shit, his feet weren’t touching the ground, were they?

Snickering, he gave Dabi’s shoulders a gentle squeeze before rounding the table and huffing at the power-house, his smile pleased and doting as he waved at him; “okay, break it up you two” he chuckled whilst gesturing that the teen be put down. “He’s gonna get vertigo up there if we’re not careful” he warned, his words causing Toshinori to blink and fuss.

“A-ah~! Sorry Tomura-kun~!” he apologised whilst gently placing his sneaker-clad feet onto the red, glittery linoleum, his expression sheepish whilst Shouta reached out to the teen who, a little shaky (just as he suspected), gratefully entered his embrace.

Damn…

All things considered?

That couldn’t have gone better, could it?

“Would you two like to stay for a drink or two?” he offered the Pros, both just as emotionally drained and exhausted as they were; “the study group will be coming by soon” he furthered: “and Mitsuki should be stopping by later with Inko, too” he added.

“I, for one, would certainly appreciate that, Shouta” Mirai voiced, one of the napkins he’d offered them all still dabbing at his eyes; “it… it has been quite a day, hasn’t it?”

“Tch, you’re telling me” Dabi huffed, his hands trying to soothe Jiji as the cat continued to fidget, those milky-jade eyes locked onto his primary care-giver whilst he twitched his nose and grumbled at being ignored; “how the hell do you guys do shit like this all of the time?” he asked, his tone incredulous.

“It… it can be trying” All Might admitted, his own form so much lighter although his smile remained smaller.

Softer and truly, _genuinely_ pleased…

“However… moments like this? They… they make the load a little easier to carry” he said, his blue eyes locking with the turquoise ones regarding him; “and… if it’s not too forward of me to say? Thank you, Dabi-kun, for taking such good care of Tomura-kun” he offered with a proper, formal bow. “It… it fills me with more joy than you can know to see him here, with you and Shouta-kun… I… the bonds he’s made with you, and with Hitoshi-kun and our other, young friends, too, I… he could not be in better company” he enthused, the flame quirk user blushing a little at the praise.

“I could not be more grateful and… if I may? I humbly, _humbly_ ask if you’ll allow me to entreat upon your life, if only a little, too?”

~*~

At 15:35 (heh; he could hear them loudly questioning where everyone was and if everything was okay on approach: he’d texted their parents to let them know that the Noraneko was closed to the general public until tomorrow morning, however, the kids were still welcome and would be fed, as usual) the tots were inbound.

All Might (the joy he was famous for fully returned, his energy boisterous, his hugging abundant) had greeted them, their little faces ecstatic as they’d rushed him and laughed, uproariously, as he’d balanced them on his arms, ruffled their hair and allowed them to _drag_ him to the study area.

Tomura, Dabi and Mirai (whom they’d noticed as they clambered onto their usual chairs and giggled at) had retreated to the cat enclosure (after they’d all indulged in lemonade and BLTs) where the future-seer had lain upon the floor, his glasses pocketed, his eyes closed with Hime spread across his chest.

Hero and Hotaru, however, decided to give his hair a _new look_ , their ebony bodies pouncing, pawing and playing with the strands as he continued to lie there without a care in the world.

Tomura and Dabi, both more relaxed than they had been all week, were similarly slumped on the beanbags inside their feline family members’ home, their hands offering waves at the tots from where they’d curled into each other under the watchful gaze, and purring forms, of Hahaua, Homura and Jiji.

The other kittens were quite content to walk, jump and bounce all over their legs whilst tiny teeth and claws made yet another play for fraying show-laces.

Sighing pleasantly, his hands carrying a tray loaded with glasses and a full pitcher of lemonade, Shouta made his way to all of them, his diligent gaze watching as they dutifully got their school work out (because, for them? This was just another day) to complete or show off to the Number 1.

“You see this “excellent” sticker? Well~! I’ve been getting SO MANY of these thanks to Kaachan, Deku and Ochaco-chan helping me and Shou-nii explaining what I need to do in ways that I understand~!” Eijiro stated, his hands moving around the brightly coloured circle next to his 19/20 math-work with a proud flourish.

“Oh-oohhh~! And me~!” Denki called, his science book waving at the chuckling Pro; “Tsu-chan is _super_ great at biology and I’m _pretty_ sure Shou-nii puts smart-juice in alla the drinks he gives me, too~!” he praised: “that, and Toshi-kun is _always_ helping me to improve even when my dense-moments make his head hurt~!”

Watching as the iris haired child laugh-snorted whilst Tsuyu let out one of her (beyond adorable) “ _kero’s~!_ ”, he started to pour the drinks before giving the happy-go-lucky blonde’s hair an affectionate ruffle.

“You’re all doing exceptionally well” he praised; “so much so, in fact, that I wanted to speak to you and your guardians about taking our self-defence lessons further” he told them, their eyes turning to him in wonderment: “how would you all like to learn Jujutsu, hmm?”

“Wah~! Shou-nii~! That’s so _heckin_ manly~!” the ebony haired boy crowed, his hands raised for a set of high-fives that Katsuki and Denki created with him.

“Do… do you really think that we could that? That we’re, you know, good enough?” Ochaco asked, a little starry-eyed.

“Of course” he smiled, his legs walking him towards her so that he could crouch down to her eye level; “you’ve all proven that you’re dedicated to your school work and the classes we’ve been doing” he reminded: “that, and I believe that you all have the potential to reach some of the more difficult belts before the end of junior high” he furthered. 

“But… but that’d mean that we’d have accredited skills in hero-approved martial art” Izuku breathed, his little hands curling into fists; “and that… that’d mean…”

“That you’d all have some pretty big ticks for any hero courses you wanted to try for” he finished for him, his dark eyes meeting the hopeful, emerald ones locked onto his in wonder; “I figured if this is what you want… if this dream of yours to start an Agency together is going to get off the ground then I, as _Team-dad_ ” he stated, all of them snickering whilst Katsuki nodded. “Had better start getting you prepared for such a thing properly, hadn’t I?” he grinned, the seven of them cheering.

“Wah~! Does that mean we’d get to call you Shou-sensei? That’s so freaking cool, you know~! I… ugh…” Denki whooped before, with a blink, his mirth abruptly died, his eyes narrowing as he pointed at him; “S-Shou-nii… your neck…”

Oh…

 _Fuck_ …

~*~

Calming the kids down (and no, he was _not_ acknowledging Dabi mouthing ‘I told you so’; he had bigger fish to fry) had been made all the easier thanks to All Might, the blonde soothing them by rubbing their backs until…

“Ahh~! You’re hurt too~! What are those angry, red lines all over you~?!”

_Oh boy…_

“O-oh, these, ahh…”

God fucking damn everything…

“Okay… _okay_ ” he called over the din, Hitoshi clinging to his chest, Izuku and Katsuki attached to either leg; “let’s all go and sit in the gaming area, okay?” he managed, his legs _somehow_ moving with the boys still fixed in place.

Shit…

He’d sleep tonight, wouldn’t he?

He’d have to set three alarms, just in case…

He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been this exhausted; thank God he’d listened to Dabi…

“ _Shouta, you are **not** opening the café on Thursday! For fuck’s sake! You’re going to face off with the ultimate douche-bag and fuck, if you weren’t doing it for Tomura, for _us_ , you _wouldn’t_ be going at all… you crazy, stupid, self-sacrificing not so old guy!_”

… who was becoming, more and more, with each passing day, the true voice of reason in their house.

Heh; such a good kid.

They all were…

And now he’d gone and upset them…

 _Fuck_.

Then, all of them _somehow_ sat (Ochaco, Tsuyu, Eijiro and Denki were bundled up with Toshinori whilst he held Hitoshi, Katsuki and Izuku clung to him) on the soft flooring together, he started handing out napkins (damn it; he’d not meant for them to find out like this: he should have tightened his bandana before they arrived, shouldn’t he?).

“Okay” he said, all of them gazing at him; “now… I don’t want you to worry and I _don’t_ want you to feel as though I kept this from you for any other reason than to save you from that worry” he urged: “but… I… _we_ ” he tried to grin as All Might let out a broken chuckle. “Have had quite a morning… I want to share this with you for two reasons… the first? I need you to know that, despite appearances, I am… _we_ are physically alright” he stated; “the second? _This_ kind of thing goes hand in hand with being hero… _this_ is what you’ll come to see and know when you’re older…”

He’d left out the scarier details of course and, keeping his descriptions short and his tone light, he saw the children slowly take everything in, some of them sniffling and others frowning.

“And… and the bad man who wanted to hurt you guys and Tomu-nii… he’s gone now, right?” the little brunette asked pensively, her hands clasped together over her chest.

“That’s right, sweetheart” he nodded, hands still rubbing at Katsuki and Izuku’s arms whilst Hitoshi regarded him carefully.

“A-And he… he’s the one who… who did that” he asked, his violet irises sharpening.

“Ugh! I wish _he_ was here, right now, so that _we_ could get a punch or two in~!” the explosive blonde huffed, his scowl furious (he’d agreed beforehand, with Mitsuki, that he’d allow her to speak to him about her involvement later; he just knew that it’d bring the pair closer together, their relationship having grown so much closer as of late).

“Well, if it makes any difference” he grinned, a little snicker leaving him; “All Might-o here used his most famous super-move on the guy” he praised, the tots gasping, their heads snapping to the sheepish blonde in awe: “and I’d like to think it was because _he_ didn’t like him hurting my neck, either…”

“I was… admittedly, very, _very_ furious with him for touching you” the bronzed man agreed before, just like that, the tykes were all over him, their questions mixed in with words of thanks and praise for “ _protecting Shou-nii_ ” and “ _saving cat-dad_ ”.

Heh…

So cute…

Hitoshi, however, hadn’t budged from his lap, his lips wobbly.

“Y-you… you sure you’re okay?”

Taking a moment to wipe the tears from his ward’s face, he embraced him closely, the child’s face pressed into the bandana Dabi had gifted him; “there were times when I was a little worried that I wouldn’t be” he told him honestly. “But then I thought of you, your big brothers, our friends here and your mom and I… I found the strength to be okay” he breathed, his fingers gently stroking the child’s neck-nape to soothe him.

“So… in a way… all of you helped to keep me safe, too, you know?” he offered quietly; “and… I’m sorry that I didn’t tell you at the time, Toshi… I just didn’t want you to lose anymore sleep or be concerned, alright?” he pushed: “if I hadn’t felt that I could truly help… if it wasn’t for wanting keep all of you safe, I wouldn’t have gone, either, okay?”

“O-okay” the tot breathed, those small arms coiled about his neck tightly; “I… I love you, Shou-nii” the seven-year-old whispered: “an’ I… I’m so glad you’re okay…”

~*~

Todoroki Enji had _thought_ he was furious simply because he’d learned of the plan to capture All for One, the GREATEST villain their country had ever know, whilst the mission itself was running…

“Who the hell is… CD?”

 _However_ , as he sat within the Hero Association’s Main Boardroom as a simpering beta-male who couldn’t be a hero if _all_ of their lives depended on it went through what had occurred between 08:00 and 09:30 that deceptively quiet morning, the Number 1 suspiciously absent, he’d felt is ire building…

“That is classified information, Endeavour.”

Sneering, his impressive form sat with Numbers 3-5 leading down from him at the long, rectangular table (as it should be) he allowed his beard-flames to flutter menacingly, his turquoise eyes narrowed imperiously at the pathetic, little man whilst a few of the other Pros grumbled with him and the Police Force _peanut-gallery_ murmured, their hands tapping away at laptops and tablets.

Tch.

“Say’s who?” he challenged gruffly; “isn’t it bad enough that I was cast to the side-lines?” he groused: “isn’t it _insulting_ enough to consider me as an afterthought whilst people who I don’t know, some child from a second-rate school alongside some washed-up, virtually retired Pros and… _teachers_ were summoned for this?” he growled. “You’ve all been _extremely_ lucky that this… this _farce_ didn’t blow up in your faces!” he added imperiously; “who put this _scheme_ together, huh? Who gave it the go-ahead, they…”

“With respect, Endeavour-san” a dog-headed man cut in (feh; since when did a lowly Lieutenant who headed a bunch of hero wannabes too _weak_ to make the grade get to interrupt him? _Ridiculous_ ); “this highly-coordinated plan was formed over the three days we had at the time” he stated firmly. “All of the key-players were chosen for very specific attributes, abilities and skill-sets” he furthered, those dark eyes meeting his in a way he _really_ didn’t like. “If excessive fire-power had been needed, we would have called you…”

“Ha!” he chuffed, his right fist smacking upon the table, the force trembling the water-glasses and causing the other Pros to snag their bottles and tablets to save them from ruin; “ _if_ , you say? IF! This is Shigaraki we’re talking about!” he snarled. “What if you bungling idiots had missed your chance? What if that _America_ lover hadn’t been able to land the final blow?! You…”

“But he was and he did” the man ( _Tsuragamae_ -mongrel-bastard) retorted plainly, his features completely neutral (who the _fuck_ did he think he was!?); “with _further_ respect, we’ve asked all of you here today to pass on the good news, run through the mission and keep you in the loop” he carried on before looking to the room at large.

Gran Torino (sagely sat with a cup of steaming matcha) snickered at him from across the table whilst Best Jeanist ( _why_ the Number 5 hero had been picked over him he’d _never_ know!) pointedly ignored his glares in favour of reading the documents they’d been given.

He’d _fucking_ been there, God damn it!

“Whereas it’s true that today’s success is something to be celebrated… we must stay vigilant” the Lieutenant warned, his tone brokering no argument as the men in black suits continued to type at their laptops, the Police Force officers did the same and the heroes listened attentively.

Tch.

What a crock of shit…

What a _complete_ waste of his time…

“With Shigaraki’s removal from the criminal underground comes more challenges and persons of interest; many will see his imprisonment as their chance to rise to power and, sadly, as you’ll see on page thirteen of your documents… there are still many known associates of his at large…”

Grumbling, to himself, Enji snatched the paper (tch; what was this? Amateur hour? So what if paper was easy to destroy and files could be hacked, they deserved something _better_ than a flimsy, stapled pamphlet he was _supposed_ to shred: heh, he’d be keeping it, regardless) and flipped the pages in a show of cooperation.

However, he instead focused on the manuscripts nearer the beginning, his ears tuning out the drivel that any half-soaked mutt worth their salt should _already_ know about whilst he read.

CD?

_CD?_

Who the hell _was_ this person?

There were no references to this guy (girl, other?) across any mission briefs he’d read over the past five years that he could think of; was this person a quirk specialist? A foreigner? Someone from special-forces or the military?

Hmm…

As he read, he saw those two, taunting capital letters show up time and time again; this person had been essential to the initial planning, had provided _classified_ information from an unknown source, _hell_! They’d held Shigaraki’s attention long enough for the great-lummox to knock him out cold.

A feat none of them had previously thought possible.

Tch…

He didn’t like the idea of having _more_ competition for the top-spot; however, as he continued reading, there was one striking correlation which meant that he might not _have_ to just sit back and wonder.

‘ _AM must be All Might_ ’ he mused, a gloved finger stroking at his chin; ‘ _whoever this _CD_ is, they’re known to you, aren’t they? Heh… you always have had all your fingers in all of the pies, haven’t you?_’ he thought, his frown deepening.

‘ _It’s been quite a while since you and I had a little chat, hasn’t it, Yagi- _senpai_? Yes… I believe that a meeting has been quite… overdue…_’

**Author's Note:**

> I do not own or claim to own any of the characters/settings used within this non-profit piece of fiction; I am merely using them/their likenesses for my entertainment and (hopefully) the entertainment of others! Please don't sue~!


End file.
